


The Upside of Everything Wrong

by cashcakeplz



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Abusive Mother, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Bruises, Cheating, Child Abuse, Crying, Cute, Dark, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love, M/M, Marriage, Michael is a sweetheart, Minor Injuries, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, SO, Sad, Shy Calum, Shyness, So yeah, Speech Disorders, Suicidal Thoughts, Toxic Relationship, absent father, anyway, but nothing major, calum suffers a lot, it's not extremely specific, luke beats calum, mentions of Daddy KInk, mentions of abuse, michael fixes calum, very small actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashcakeplz/pseuds/cashcakeplz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well we’ve always kind of deviated, don’t you think?” He says with a sly little smile that metaphorically knocks Calum on his ass. His face turns red again, and why, why is Michael doing this to him? <br/>“I do think that.” He whispers. He leans a bit closer to Michael, and lets his head rest against the boy’s shoulder. “But this isn’t a date.” </p><p>or the one where Calum's been betrayed by everyone he's put trust in, and believes he's unlovable until Michael appears, and shows Calum just how easy being loved can be</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Upside of Everything Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!  
> Idk if anyone is reading this, because I'm horrendous at making summaries, but hey!  
> Anyways, this fic is very, very dark in the beginning, but I promise it gets much better!!!   
> Thank you if you read this, and I love you all!!  
> XX-Alex

The boy was charming. 

Calum met him on his third day of his second year of uni. His first year of university, he’d failed to make any friends, acquaintances, or even so much as an impression. He mostly just sat in his dorm room, read, and tried to be a good student. His life was riding on his success at school. 

Calum was alright, though. College, even if he was alone for the most part, was  _ infinitely _ better than being back in the house with Joy, so he embraced his solitude. 

He lacked the courage and the social skills to make friends, anyway, so he didn’t bother. 

But, it was fair to say that when Calum entered the cafe on Thursday, his third day of his second year of college, and nervously ordered his hazelnut hot chocolate from the pretty boy with ocean-blue eyes and a slight accent, that he was charmed. 

It especially didn’t help when the boy, whose name tag read ‘Lucas,’ gave him his drink with a wink, and a: ‘here you are, sweetheart.’ 

Calum may not or may not have blushed wildly, and fled the cafe as quickly as possible, as he had never been addressed as ‘sweetheart’ his entire life.  _ Especially  _ not by cute barista boys with soft eyes. Things like that just didn’t happen to Calum. 

Nothing good ever did. 

But when he got back to his chilly dorm, and noticed the scrawl on the side of his cup with a ‘you’re cute,’ followed by a group of digits, Calum was sure his heart had stopped. He stared at the phone number for a solid twenty minutes, his fingers running over the scar under his eye thoughtfully. He had a phone. He never used it, but he had one. He could...he could call this boy, and maybe...maybe learn more?

He wasn’t sure how these things worked. 

Nevertheless, Calum put the boy’s number into his phone, carefully saved as ‘Lucas,’ and decided to sleep on it, and to return to the cafe the following day. 

He may or may not have spent thirty minutes deciding what to wear before leaving the next morning, but that was beside the point.  

But when he got there, the boy was there, mixing some type of warm drink, his white shirt stained with faint coffee marks. His blonde hair fell in waves across his forehead, and when Calum came up to the register, a wide smile crossed his face. 

“Hey.” He said smoothly. Calum blushed right away, and demanded himself to speak smoothly. 

“Hello.” He said softly back, fist-pumping in his head because he didn’t stutter like he usually did when he talked. 

“You’re back.” The boy said, and Calum nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you see the message I left for you?” The boy asked with a dazzling smile, his lip ring pulling the pretty pink flesh. Calum blushed again, and looked down at his shoes. 

“Yes, I-I did.” Almost. He almost got rid of the stuttering. Damn it. Lucas didn’t seem to mind, though. 

“I meant it, y’know.” He said, punching some buttons onto the cash register. Calum furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “You really are cute.” 

“Oh.” Calum said, his blush spreading to his neck. He slowly looked up at the boy, who was watching him intently. “T-Thank you.” 

Lucas chuckled. 

“You’re welcome.” Then he turned around, and started doing something, making a drink, and Calum felt awkward, so he bit his lip, and stood off to the side. Within a minute or two, Lucas returned, handing Calum a cup. Calum took it with confusion. 

“Um.” He said quietly. “I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful.” Lucas said, wiping his hands on a towel. “It’s on the house.” 

Calum started to blubber out a response, but Lucas leaned on his elbows on the counter, and looked up at Calum. 

“The only price you have to pay, would be your name.” He said smoothly. Calum stared at him for a moment, taking in his doe eyes and his pointed nose carefully before smiling softly. 

“Calum Hood.” He said in a whispered tone. Lucas broke into an even bigger grin. He stretched a hand out, and after Calum flinched back a little, much to his embarrassment, he slowly shook it. 

“Lucas Hemmings.” He said. “But you can call me Luke.” 

Calum smiled bashfully. 

“Alright.” He said. “It’s a p-pleasure to meet you, Luke.” 

“The pleasure, Calum Hood,” Luke said with a smile. “Is all mine.” 

 

-

 

It didn’t take long. 

Daily trips to the cafe where Luke worked by Calum built a strong bond between the two boys, and Calum had learned more about Luke in three months than he had about anyone else ever. 

Luke was the youngest of three boys, was from Sydney, and was a math major at the same college as Calum. Luke’s family had a lot of money, but Luke wanted none of it, and so he took a job at the cafe where he works now to afford a cheap apartment on the north end of campus. 

In three short months, Calum was visiting said apartment, and even though Luke had called it ‘cheap and weak,’ Calum thought it was great. It was a hundred times better than his cramped little dorm, and Luke had it all to himself. Luke seemed like a strong, independent individual, and that drew Calum in like nothing else ever had. 

Calum had never been able to stand on his own two feet. Maybe he was hoping Luke could do it for him. 

Calum was extremely shy around Luke, like he was with most people, but Luke was patient, and he eventually pried Calum open enough to talk with him. Calum told Luke everything he knew about himself, which in all honesty, wasn’t very much. But it didn’t matter, because Calum even got Luke to  _ laugh  _ sometimes, especially when Calum was being too naive to understand something. Calum was hopelessly endearing, and Luke couldn’t get enough. 

Soon enough, Luke was asking Calum to his apartment when his shifts ended, and then Calum was asking Luke to his dorm, and within five months, Luke was escorting Calum to his very first actual date ever. It was just dinner, but it made Calum’s heart soar. 

He’d never had a friend in his entire life, let alone a  _ boyfriend. _ Luke was the first person in a  _ long, long _ time to show Calum any sort of compassion, and Calum couldn’t help himself. He’d been starved of love and attention for so long that all he was desperate for it. 

And Luke provided.

Calum was too young and naive to see anything but the good side of Luke, and when the boy, who trumped Calum’s age of nineteen by two years, asked Calum to move in with him, Calum was tripping over himself to say yes. 

For Calum, things had never been better. Luke was good to him, treated him like a real prince, taking him on dates, and being patient with his boyfriend’s shy nature. He made Calum feel loved and comforted, and the younger became attached quickly. Life with Luke was the life Calum used to dream of as a child, when he was locked in his room,  _ terrified  _ of his mother’s wrath. Calum’s dreams had literally become true. 

And there was nothing to worry about. 

There was no way for Calum to know that things were about to change. 

 

-

 

Luke was a popular boy, handsome, charming, and full of charisma. Calum understood that. Luke had never offered to introduce Calum to his friends, but Calum didn’t mind. He didn’t want to embarrass his older boyfriend with his scars and speech impediment, so he stayed at home while Luke went out with friends to drink all night long. 

It was okay, Calum was fine on his own. 

Except over the time he and Luke had been together, he’d developed an irrational fear of going to sleep alone. He dreamed of his mother returning, dreamed of her chasing him through the woods, calling out for her little boy, only to attack him when Calum got close. He would wake up sweating and scared, and it didn’t take him long to melt down in Luke’s arms. 

So on the nights Luke went out to drink, Calum would stay up, and watch movies, curled up on the cracked leather couch under a thin blanket. That’s where he is now, watching Mulan for the millionth time, because he loves the story, and checking his phone ever once and awhile. 

Everything was fine, except Luke promised Calum he’d be home two hours ago, and Calum was starting to get a little worried. He’d learned from past mistakes not to call Luke when he was out with friends, because he got angry when Calum distracted him. 

Calum didn’t want Luke to be angry with him. 

Luke often got pretty wasted, but never enough that he couldn’t stumble his way home, peck Calum on the lips, and fall asleep in his own bed, so Calum had faith that he would return. And nevertheless, within half an hour, the door knob to the apartment was turning, and Calum’s heart was skipping a beat, like it always did when Luke returned. 

Luke entered the house slowly, his eyes dazed as he toed off his shoes, leaning against the wall, obviously completely plastered. Calum watched him with a slightly worried expression. His mum used to look like that when she drank. 

Luke lifted his head, and when his blue eyes, which looked almost  _ black  _ right now, settled on Calum, an annoyed expression took over his face. 

“Jesus, Calum, what are you doing up?” He asked, and it wasn’t a sweet ‘sweetheart, you should be sleeping.’ No, it was a ‘why the fuck are you still awake you fucking reject.’ Calum was a little taken aback, and his mouth dropped open, as Luke had never talked to him that way before. 

“I...I-” He trailed off for a moment. “I just wanted to be sure you got home.” 

Luke rolled his eyes. 

“Can’t I go anywhere without you clinging to me, Calum? Just go to fucking sleep.” He snapped. Calum’s eyes widened, and his heart beat with hurt. He could already feel himself shutting down, submitting himself to let Luke walk over him because he didn’t know any better.

“L-Luke, I’m sorry, I...I just wanted t-to-” He stuttered out, his speech impediment getting worse because he was panicking. Luke just shook his head, and leaned against the wall for a moment. 

“Be quiet, Calum, for Christ’s sake.” 

Calum bit his lip, because he was used to this, it was okay. He closed his eyes, and cursed his tongue for not working properly. He didn’t need to talk. There was nothing he needed to say anyway. His voice was pointless. He stood up from the couch, and started to walk to their bedroom like a dejected puppy, passing Luke, who was still partially leaning against the wall. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Luke hissed, coming off the wall to block Calum’s path. Calum stepped backwards in shock, his eyes careful on Luke because Luke looked so  _ mad _ , and Calum  _ really _ didn’t want him to be mad.  

“To the bed.” He whispered, looking at Luke with confused chocolate eyes. Luke shook his head again.  

“No, you’re sleeping on the couch, I don’t want you in my bed tonight.” He slurred, and wow. That hurt. Calum’s mouth opened again, and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What? But-” 

Luke shut Calum up by grabbing his arm tightly in his hand, and walking them back over to the couch. Luke’s movements were jerky and hard, like shards of broken glass from one of the bottles he’d inevitably drained hours ago. Calum turned to Luke, completely confused by his boyfriend’s behavior. What was his problem? 

“Luke, what’s the matter with you?” He asked softly. This was crossing a line, and Calum knew it, but he was just so  _ lost. _ Luke’s eyes were smouldering, and his grip on Calum’s arms was starting to hurt. Calum had never been frightened by Luke before, but then again, Luke had never looked like  _ this  _ before. “I don’t want to sleep here, I-I wanna sleep with you, and-”

Before Calum could continue his little thought-out speech, Luke’s hand was colliding with Calum’s face so hard, the boy was forced to sit down on the couch. He plopped onto his ass, his face stinging like a bitch. 

It took him a moment to realize what happened. But when he did, the images started. His mother smacking him for taking a cookie from the jar when he wasn’t supposed to, he’d been six. His mother pushing him down a flight of stairs when he was twelve. His mother beating him into the kitchen floor the night Mali had left. 

All the bad memories washed over him, and suddenly Calum was so panicked that he became absolutely  _ numb _ . The sensation of being absolutely overwhelmed by his past being brought into his present, by a simple slap of a hand was rejecting, and Calum snapped his mouth shut tightly. 

“You’re staying here, Calum, and that’s final.” Luke snapped. 

“O-Okay.” Calum whispered, looking straight ahead, unable to look Luke in the eye. His face stung, and his heart was beating a mile a minute, but Calum was okay. It was probably an accident. Luke is  _ drunk _ . Everything is  _ fine _ . 

Luke seemed satisfied with that answer, and he marched out of the living room, leaving his boyfriend behind. Calum sat in his position for a minute, his mind racing. The images of all the abuse he’d suffered at home were resurfacing, and  _ fuck  _ how weak could Calum possibly be for  _ one  _ slap to awaken all these memories? 

Calum told himself to calm down. 

He layed back down on the couch, and pulled the blanket over his small frame. He curled up into a ball like he did when he was a little boy, and covered his ears with his hands to help drown out the thoughts. 

It was just an accident. Luke didn’t mean to hurt him. Everything was going to be fine. 

Calum filled himself with empty promises until his head was pounding, and he drifted off to a fitful sleep. 

 

-

 

Calum had been awake for hours when Luke finally came to him. 

Calum had been too frightened to get up when he awoke, afraid that Luke might still be angry. So Calum waited for the older boy to make the first move. 

Luke came out, and sat down on the edge of the couch, his back to Calum. The boy’s hand gently stroked Calum’s curls, and Calum summoned all his willpower to not flinch away from the action.  

“Calum, baby wake up.” He said, and Calum did as he said, blinking his eyes open, pretending he’d been asleep. 

“Morning.” He said softly, not wanting to make Luke’s head hurt by talking too loud. Luke looked at him for a moment, something akin to concern dotting his irises. 

“What’s the matter?” Calum asked in a small voice, turning more on his back to see his boyfriend. Luke frowned, and touched Calum’s face with his thumb. 

“What happened to your face?” He asked softly. Calum frowned in confusion briefly before remembering when Luke had done to him by mistake last night. He flushed in shame. 

“I...I tripped last night, and hit my face on the bedpost.” He said gently. Luke frowned even more.  

“You gotta be careful, babe.” He said. Calum smiled softly. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said, ignoring the nagging in his gut. Luke  _ hit  _ him. The bruise on his face was from his boyfriend’s hand. It wasn’t his fault. 

Calum shook his head to get rid of the brash thoughts. 

“C’mon.” Luke said, standing up, and grabbing Calum’s elbows gently. Calum winced when Luke squeezed the bruises he had created the night before. “Back to bed.” 

Calum smiled softly as Luke took his hand, and led him into the bedroom. He laid Calum down on the sheets, and kissed his forehead before climbing in behind him.

“I’m sorry I made you sleep on the couch.” He whispered before pressing a wet kiss to the spot beneath Calum’s ear. Calum hummed, and started to drift back to sleep in his boyfriend’s arms. 

It wasn’t until he had almost fallen asleep that he realized. 

If Luke remembered making him sleep on the couch…

Then there was no way he could have forgotten hitting him too. 

 

-

 

Calum is trying not to freak out.

As the weeks drone on, and winter comes and goes, Luke continues to hit him. And it’s not just  _ hit  _ anymore. 

It’s  _ beat _ . 

Luke will spontaneously become angry at any given point in time, and takes it out on his smaller, submissive boyfriend, who just sits back, and lets him do as he wishes. Calum doesn’t really understand it, doesn’t  _ get  _ what makes his boyfriend so angry. Sometimes it’s him, and Calum understands that, he understands that he pisses Luke off sometimes like when he asks for takeout instead of cooking, or when he wants Luke to stay home instead of getting drunk. 

Calum doesn’t mean to be so annoying, it’s just...he keeps accidentally burning himself when he cooks because he never learned how to do it properly, and he hates when Luke gets drunk, because he comes home, and beats Calum until he can barely walk the next morning. 

But sometimes it’s other things, like Luke’s father, who the older boy  _ hates  _ with a passion, or sometimes it will be a bad grade on a test. Luke will become so  _ angry _ that he can barely see straight, and Calum is just  _ there _ , and it’s  _ easy _ , almost, beating him up. Calum never cries, and he never complains, and in the morning, when Luke’s head has cleared up, and he pretends he doesn’t remember what he did, Calum will just smile, and come up with an excuse. 

Calum’s run into a door about twelve times now. 

The bruises Luke inevitably press or hit into Calum blossom into flowers of pain visible on Calum’s paling skin. Different shades of purple and blue are constantly covering Calum’s face, arms, and hip bones. Brilliant essences of lilac and midnight blue that Calum’s never even seen before, it’s pretty almost, his injuries, and Calum wonders how everything Luke does, right down to beating his boyfriend, is beautiful. 

It’s been a long time since Calum’s been out in the sun, and his natural brown tone looks faded and weak now, just like Calum’s hope for things getting better. His personality begins to whither in him, and Calum feels himself slipping into the mindset he wore so well while living with Joy. He was becoming no one again. A nobody that was so lost, no compass could ever bring them home. An easy target for malice and harsh treatment. 

Nothing but a child for Luke to scold and smack just as Calum’s mother did. 

Now, Calum has never, ever told Luke about being abused as a child, but by now, Luke has figured it out. Calum’s covered in scars from head to toe, and the way Calum is quiet when Luke hits him...the way he  _ flinches  _ away from Luke, even when it isn’t mad, it’s enough for Luke to realize that not only was Calum abused, but that he was abused  _ badly _ . 

And it breaks his heart, but not enough to keep him from destroying Calum even further. 

Calum honestly doesn’t mind. Sure, he’s a little confused sometimes, and his body usually hurts, and he’s pretty numb about 90 percent of the time, but he  _ loves  _ Luke. Luke has been there for him when no one else ever has, and so maybe he beats him sometimes. Who cares? 

He doesn’t know or deserve any better. This is the  _ only  _ way someone can love him, with angry words, and broken promises, and split lips.  

The countless bruises and even sprained wrist are worth it in exchange for nights cuddled up on the couch, watching Disney movies to Calum’s heart’s galore, and for romantic dinners, and sweet sex in Luke’s grey sheets. 

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. 

Calum strokes his scabs from healing cuts when he can’t sleep, and he’s accustomed himself to being alone again. He eats more than he did when he was in high school, and he’s even started to put on weight. His life is good, it’s better. 

He still doesn’t talk to anyone other than Luke, hardly leaving the house, but he doesn’t need to. He’s quiet, and doesn’t talk to Luke unless he’s spoken to. He doesn’t have anything to say.

Luke definitely wouldn’t listen if he said anything anyway. 

So, Calum saves his breath, wondering when it will run out. 

Tonight, Luke is angry because his mother was on the phone, demanding to meet this boyfriend of Luke’s that he’s been dating for nearly two years. Luke refuses to take Calum home, to let him meet his mother and father and brothers. Calum is a little disappointed, because he’s always wanted to meet a proper family, considering his is completely destroyed, but what Luke says goes. That’s final. Calum is too frightened to ask for anything anymore. 

God only knows what Luke would do to him. 

When Luke hangs up the phone, Calum tries not to shake, and he forces himself to sit calmly on the end of the bed. It’s  _ the  _ bed, not  _ their  _ bed. Luke stomps into the room, and Calum doesn’t look at him, just fists his hands in the comforter, and prepares for the lashing he’s about to take. 

Luke looks over him for a minute, tiny, scared,  _ young  _ boy who’s near shaking on the bed. There’s a particularly nasty bruise on Calum’s jaw tonight, and it looks proper horrifying in the eerie light of the moon. Suddenly, the anger is out of Luke. Calum’s a sweetheart, waiting here, patient and quiet for Luke to do the unthinkable.  

What has Luke done to him? 

“Get packed.” He say instead, and Calum looks up at him cautiously, afraid. Luke’s heart skips a beat because those pretty brown eyes that he fell for so long ago are so... _ different  _ now. Calum raises an eyebrow. He’s taken to not talking, especially when Luke is in a bad mood. 

“We’re leaving for my parents’ house in the morning. We’re staying for two days. Get packed, alright?” He asks softly. Calum, still hesitant, leans back on the bed. His eyes find the floor between Luke’s feet. 

Is this a joke? Calum never knows anymore. 

“Calum, are you deaf?” Luke asks, leaning against the doorframe. Calum hates that he’s so attractive, lean and muscled, a section of his pale skin on display from where his shirt rode up. 

“No.” He says as passively as he can manage, trying to ignore the hurricane in his mind. He picks at the bedspread so he doesn’t have to look at his boyfriend. Luke nods. 

“Then hurry up.” He says, and he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he’s so snappy with Calum all the time. He treats Calum like garbage, and he doesn’t even know why. Something’s wrong with him, but he can’t stop it. 

Calum immediately climbs off the bed, and quickly starts gathering his small amount of clothes, and shoving it into a bag. He leaves Luke’s clothes alone. Luke gets really angry when Calum wears his clothes. 

Luke watches him work with haste, like he’s following orders. Like a slave, almost. 

He walks out of the room, feeling like a monster. 

 

-

 

Luke’s parents’ house is huge. 

Calum grew up in a pretty small house, and of course, the house seemed ten times smaller because it had always imprisoned Calum. Plus, Calum had been living in Luke’s tiny apartment for close to two years, and he wasn’t used to this much space. He hoped he wouldn’t get lost. Luke probably wouldn’t be happy. 

Luke was already in a foul mood as they pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. He’d been pissed all day, mostly because Calum had mistakenly burned his breakfast while he was distracted by covering some of his bruises, and they’d had to go to a fast food joint, which he  _ really  _ didn’t appreciate. The worst part was Luke didn’t even hit him, and instead made Calum feel on edge all day. It was a long, tension-filled drive. 

Calum glanced out the window of Luke’s Honda, taking in the mighty brimstone house that resembled more of a castle than a home. It made Calum’s heart beat quickly for some reason. It reminded him of the books he used to read as a child before things went wrong, wonderful tales of a knight in shining armor saving a princess from a tower.

Strangely enough, when Calum pictures his knight, it  _ isn’t  _ Luke. Shame immediately burns through him. 

“Calum, let’s go, darling.” Luke says, snapping Calum from his daydream. The ‘darling’ at the end of Luke’s sentence sounds genuine for once, and Calum isn’t as nervous as usual when he climbs out of the car. Luke takes his hand, and they walk to the front door. 

Luke’s mum is a short lady with honey blonde curls, and she smells like cinnamon. Calum immediately knows that this woman is what a mother should be like. He panics a little when he sees her, he feels like the breath is punched from his lungs, and Luke has to tug on his arm to get him to keep walking. 

“Luke, my baby!” She said happily, walking across the landing in short strides, and smothering Luke in a hug. The way Luke pretends to be annoyed is hopelessly endearing, and Calum is almost  _ transfixed  _ by the kiss he places on her head. Calum wouldn’t  _ ever  _ kiss his mother. 

“Hi mummy.” Luke says gently. Calum can’t even remember the last time he called his mother ‘mummy.’ He must have been six or seven. 

Mrs. Hemmings turns to him next, and Calum stops breathing for a second. Those blue eyes are so full of  _ love  _ that it nearly stuns Calum, because this woman doesn’t even know him, for god’s sake, he could be  _ beating  _ her son. 

Calum’s never been very good with meeting new people, with his twisted tongue and shy nature. It’s why he’s been alone most of his life. He needs to make this work. He chokes down his hindering conscious that screams for him to run. 

“You, my dear, must be Calum.” She says in a sweet voice. Calum forces a smile to his face. “Luke’s told me all about you.” 

Luke turns a little red, but is quickly distracted by a noise coming from the kitchen. Mrs. Hemmings moves to hug Calum, and the boy, who was focused on Luke, flinches away out of reflex. Luckily, the woman is too kind to mention anything, and she ecases Calum in a hug that feels strangely like coming home. Calum wonders if this is what a mother’s love feels like. 

“L-Likewise.” He says gently, awkwardly returning the embrace. Mrs. Hemmings pulls away, and cups Calum’s face in her hands. Calum tries not to wince as her ring cuts into a bruise that’s cleverly hidden underneath a thick layer of make up. 

“My, you  _ are  _ a handsome one, Luke certainly didn’t lie about that.” She says, and Calum is kind of impressed, how she managed to make Calum feel so  _ good  _ about himself with  _ one  _ comment. Luke has since disappeared from the landing, and Calum doesn’t feel panicked like he thought he might. 

“Thank you.” He says softly. Something flashes in the blue of Mrs. Hemmings’ eyes for a moment, something like...suspicion, but then it’s gone, and she’s releasing Calum. 

“Come now, I’m sure Luke and his father are in the kitchen. Jack and Ben are out. It’s a family, gathering, you see, and I  _ insisted  _ that Luke bring you along.” She says, walking through the large house, and leading Calum into a  _ very  _ impressive kitchen area where Luke is, sitting next to his father, looking rather rigid. 

“Andrew.” Mrs. Hemmings says, making the man, who Calum is assuming is Luke’s father, stop staring at his son, and turn to his wife. Andrew spots Calum, and some of the tension leaks out of his broad shoulders. He walks forward, and loops an arm around Mrs. Hemmings’ shoulders. 

“Hello.” He says in a deep voice. Calum is a little shocked by how much he looks like his son. “You the boy, then?” 

Luke scoffs from where he’s sitting, and Calum feels incredibly  _ bare  _ at the moment, and he really wishes Luke were beside him right now. 

“Um.” He says gently, cowering under the stern gaze of Luke’s father. “Yes, I suppose.” 

“You suppose?” Mr. Hemmings says. Calum swallows nervously. 

This is scary. Calum hasn’t spoken with a father in  _ years _ . Including his own. 

“Yes, sir.” He says softly. He’s panicking a little, and Mrs. Hemmings looks sympathetic, but she doesn’t do anything. Calum doesn’t dare look at Luke. He doesn’t have to. 

The older boy comes to Calum’s rescue, and quickly winds his fingers with Calum’s. 

“Dad.” He says. “Don’t give him a hard time.” 

Then Mr. Hemmings does something Calum did  _ not  _ expect. He laughs. 

“I’m just playing with you, Calum, it’s alright, son.” He chuckles. Calum smiles nervously, and leans into Luke’s side a little. He knows Luke probably doesn’t appreciate it, but Luke’s familiar, and Calum is quite frightened by this new environment. 

“Right.” He says softly. Luke lets out a soft chuckle, and kisses the top of Calum’s head. He leads Calum to a dinner table, and they sit down. Mr and Mrs Hemmings join them, and soon, steady conversation if flowing between the Hemmings’. Calum is quiet. 

As the sun sets, two boys, who Calum is assuming are Luke’s brothers, come in with boxes of pizza, and sit down opposite Calum. One of them has a pretty girl with him. 

Then the family breaks into a continuous flow of talking and laughing and eating, and Calum is silent. 

This is something completely foreign to him, something... _ sacred _ . He doesn’t want to screw it up with his tainted past. Luke’s grip on his hand is tight, and Calum has never been more grateful for something to hold onto. All this  _ family  _ stuff is getting to him, and he feels slightly suffocated, but he doesn’t tell anyone. 

He sits at the table, picks at his dinner, holds hands with Luke, and stays quiet. No one asks him anything, no one tries to bring him in. Luke pretends he isn’t there. 

It’s fine. It’s okay, Calum doesn’t mind, he just  _ really  _ wants some fresh air. 

As Calum pushes his plate away from himself for a moment, and glances up, his eyes catch on Mrs. Hemmings startlingly blue ones, the same ones that caught Calum’s attention in a cafe on his third day of his second year in college, and something passes between them. Mrs. Hemmings has noticed his behavior, has seen the way he responds to the family setting. And then Calum feels something rise in his chest. 

Panic. 

The look Mrs. Hemmings is giving him, one that suggests that she  _ understands,  _ that she  _ knows _ , it causes white-hot panic to flare in Calum’s mind. 

He can’t deal with someone who knows his secrets. 

 

-

 

The morning Calum and Luke are leaving, Mrs. Hemmings ambushes Calum in the study. Calum isn’t even sure what a study  _ is _ . 

“S-Sorry.” He stuttered, like always. “I was just...l-looking for the bathroom.” 

Mrs. Hemmings’ eyes are soft as she looks at the youngest person in the house. It’s slightly comforting, and so Calum doesn’t panic when she comes closer to him, just stands in place, and waits. 

“It’s alright, dear.” She whispers, then she’s in Calum’s space, and she’s touching his face like she did the first day they were there, so it’s okay, but then her thumb starts  _ rubbing _ _ , _ and Calum flinches back, because that fucking  _ hurts _ . 

Then he realizes why it hurts. He brings a hand up to his face, his eyes wide with horror. He isn’t wearing any make up. His bruises aren’t covered. 

Liz steps back with a grim expression. The lines in her face seem deep as she looks at Calum with haunted eyes. 

“Mrs. Hemmings, it’s not-”

“I thought so.” She said, with an air of finality. Calum frowns. 

“W-What?” He asks. His heart is beating insanely fast with fear. 

“He hits you, doesn’t he?” She asks, and it’s blunt. There’s absolutely no way around it, and for what feels like the millionth time in Calum’s life, he’s cornered. His jaw drops open, and he steps away from Mrs. Hemmings. 

“I mean-”

“You can’t lie to me, Calum.” She says, and Calum looks at her with intensity. Sure, he’s quiet and reserved, but that’s just his personality. No one normal would be able to see the signs of abuse. 

Calum glances to Mrs. Hemming’s hands, and feels bile rise in his throat when he sees the blue, almost  _ black _ , rings around her wrists. He turns away, and doubles over. 

“Oh  _ god _ .” He whispers. Mrs. Hemmings rubs his back, and Calum is going to be sick. “Does...d-does he know?” 

Mrs. Hemmings nods. 

“All my children know. I’m almost positive the neighbors know, too.” She says gently. Calum frowns because this woman...she’s him, reflected back, and Calum just wants to  _ disappear _ . 

“I’m so sorry, dear.” She says sadly. Calum shakes his head, and looks at the woman that he’s grown to love over the past two days. 

“Mrs. Hemmings...why don’t you...why don’t you just  _ leave _ ?” He asks. Mrs. Hemmings raises a cheeky eyebrow. 

“Why don’t you?” She asks, and Calum feels like he’s been smacked. “I love him, dear. He’s the father of my children. I wouldn’t leave him for the world, let alone a few bruises.” 

Calum clenches his fists, and turns away. 

“As for you.” She says. “You’re still young. You  _ can  _ leave.” 

Calum shakes his head. 

“Luke is abusing you, honey. From the looks of it, rather badly. I’m afraid he must have learned it from his father.” She says in a kind voice. Calum doesn’t deserve her kindness. Calum’s only been being abused by Luke for a year. Mrs. Hemmings has been with Andrew for half a lifetime. Calum can only imagine her pain. 

“And, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but Luke…” She trails off for a second. “He wasn’t the first, was he?” 

Calum bites his lip, and shakes his head slowly. Mrs. Hemmings makes a pained face. 

“My mother.” He chokes out eventually. 

Then Calum is being pulled into a hug by Mrs. Hemmings, and he doesn't really know how to feel about it. He doesn’t have time to figure out, though. 

“Calum!” Luke yells through the house. “Calum, we’re leaving!” 

Mrs. Hemmings gives Calum one last sympathetic look before Calum takes off, running for Luke, and running for security, because he’s safe in the lies. He’s safe with Luke, where he lies to himself every day, where every night Luke holds him after he hits him, and everything is familiar and alright. 

Mrs. Hemmings and her blue eyes and bruises are the exact opposite of familiar and alright. Even though those marks on her wrists are the most familiar thing he’s ever seen. Calum’s never known a body without bruises. 

As they pull out of the driveway in Luke’s car, Luke complaining about having to carry Calum’s meager belongings out to the car, someone catches Calum’s attention. It’s a boy, or closer to a man, standing on the porch of Luke’s neighbor’s house. Calum doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boy before, but there’s something disturbingly familiar in the green of his eyes. 

The boy, whose hair is bleached bright blonde, has his arms crossed over his chest, and is glaring at the car Calum’s currently in. It feels like the boy is glaring at  _ him _ . Calum frowns. He doesn’t know why the boy would be glaring at him, but he tries not to think about it. 

Calum will never see him again anyway. 

 

-

 

Classes for Calum’s fourth and final year of college begin in the fall. Luke has finally taken mercy on him, and allowed him to wear his thick denim jacket on his walk to class. Luke has since finished school, and is managing the coffee shop he met Calum in. 

It’s been nearly three years, and things really haven’t gotten better. If anything, things have just increased in shittiness as Luke works out everyday, and he packs more into his punches than he did when he was twenty. Calum hardly has the strength to eat some days, his stomach is so bruised. 

Talking is a rarity with him, and smiling is even further out of reach. Whatever healing Luke provided him in that short phase when there was no abuse has been washed out of Calum’s weak essence. 

Calum doesn’t even know what he  _ does  _ to make Luke so fucking mad. 

To be honest, he’s losing the will to care. 

College isn’t like high school, though, and there is one upside. Calum has finally managed to make some friends. People aren’t as affected by the bruises littering his paling skin as Calum is used to. Even though he hardly talks, some people in his advanced music theory class seem to understand him regardless of his absence of voice. 

One of them is this boy named Ashton Irwin. Calum doesn’t know much about him other than he’s well built, plays the drums, and seems to understand Calum better than he understands himself. He has pretty honey curls and hazel eyes that Calum could just stare at until the seasons change. 

Calum’s never had friends before. He had Luke, but he was only a friend for a short amount of time. Either way, it’s foreign, and a bit overwhelming, but Ashton makes it feel like it’s all okay. He seems to get when Calum’s drowning in his thoughts, and he’ll take Calum out of the class, and talk him through whenever he’s having some kind of nervous breakdown, which...happens a lot these days. 

Calum’s mental stability is hanging from a very thin thread, like spider silk, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before the string snaps. 

The only thing is that Ashton is friends with Luke, and sometimes when Calum is  _ really  _ bad, Ashton will call him, and Luke will have to leave work to pick Calum up. Those days vary because Luke is either super concerned for his boyfriend, and pets his back until he calms down, or he’s extremely angry for having to leave work, and he’ll hit Calum in the car, sometimes where everyone could see. Calum wishes Ashton wouldn’t call Luke, it would make his life so much easier. 

But aside from that, Ashton Irwin seems to be some sort of angel sent from above even though Calum stopped believing in god a long time ago. Ashton Irwin, though, has made him a believer in angels. Sometimes when Calum isn’t ready to return home, he’ll go to Ashton’s shitty apartment, and watch television with him. Sometimes he even smiles. 

Ashton tells jokes and talks for days on end about things that Calum doesn’t care about. It’s ridiculously endearing, and it takes Calum’s mind off Luke and his mother. Sometimes Ashton will stare at Calum with this weird look in his eyes, but Calum ignores it because everyone looks at him weirdly sometimes. He’s used to it, and he almost feels  _ good _ when he’s over at Ashton’s. 

Ashton also has a roommate, who Calum’s never seen. Sometimes he’ll yell random things from his room, and he and Ashton have some sort of conversation that Calum will never understand. It’s the type of things that only people who’ve been friends for a long time can understand. Ashton told him that his roommate is his age, and a music major just like him, and is bitchy all the time. 

Even though Calum’s never met him, he kind of likes the roommate. 

Especially on nights when the faceless voice yells out when the door shuts: “Did you bring the kid with you again?” 

Calum will probably never meet the boy that Ashton talks about like a brother, but that’s okay. It’s okay. He’d probably disappoint the boy with his depressing appearance and nonexistent personality. 

Ashton knows about the abuse. It’s impossible for him to have not figured it out. Much to his credit though, he’s never brought it up. However, Calum has the sneaking suspicion that Ashton’s talked to Luke about it. 

Actually, Calum  _ knows  _ he has because the bruises Luke gave him for someone knowing didn’t fade for days. Calum still doesn’t understand that one. It wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t control how his skin reacts to Luke’s angry hands. 

Calum has become an expert on it, now. He hardly cowers away from Luke any more because it’s so pointless. His fight-or-flight reflex in virtually nonexistent considering his only reaction to Luke’s utter  _ rage  _ is numbness, and the resignation that he’ll be beaten to a pulp for doing nothing wrong. 

Simply being there was always enough for Luke to make Calum sorry he was there at  _ all _ . 

_ Unloveable _ . The word was always flying around in the shallows of Calum’s mind, a slight, nagging word that always seemed to hurt the most when it hit Calum's conscious. Calum knew it too, there was no other reason why he’d been treated so horribly his whole life. He was simply incapable of contemplating love in any form. 

Calum often wonders why Luke is still with him. He’s nothing. He literally brings Luke nothing but an opportunity to express his anger physically. He’s small and quiet and mediocre in bed, and he knows he doesn’t bring Luke the flare of endearing innocence that attracted the tall Aussie in the beginning. He figured Luke would have gotten bored of him by now. But he hasn’t. 

Some days Calum wonders if he’s hoping Luke  _ will  _ get bored of him even though he still loves Luke more than anything else. But then again, some days, suicide seems like a great idea to Calum, because what’s the point any more? 

Luke’s love for him is fading just like his will to live. Calum knows deep down in his heart that it’s only a matter of time. He just wishes that he could let go. He wishes he could cut Luke free before Luke can break what’s left of his sorry heart. 

He wishes he didn’t care anymore. 

He wishes he never met Luke, and he wishes that he could be someone else. 

He wishes he was dead. 

 

-

 

All the bullshit of Calum’s life comes to a head on a Friday night in early spring of his last year of school. 

He and Luke just celebrated three years together, and Luke didn’t even  _ hit  _ him that day, and honestly, Calum felt kind of okay about their relationship at the moment, even if his bruises were incredibly prominent, and his friend Ashley had been eyeing them cautiously today. 

It was alright. 

Calum had been out late for his class, working on a project in the library. Time had gotten away from him, and he knew that Luke would be  _ livid  _ with him for being late, because even though Luke treats him like garbage, he’s strangely protective. 

He doesn’t like Calum out late, and he doesn’t like Calum talking to other boys that he doesn’t know. He usually doesn’t have to worry about that though, because Calum is almost a mute at this point. 

Calum climbs the same twelve stairs to the apartment that he has for the past three years, feeling even more numb than usual. His life is so...routine. He’s fading, he can feel it, with each passing day of normalcy. Calum almost wishes he were strong enough to stand up to Luke. At least then, he’d know  _ exactly  _ why he got the bruises. Then at least, Luke would have a reason to hit him.

He’s really not in the mood to get beaten up by his boyfriend, but all's fair in love and war, he guesses. 

Although his love seems more like a war these days. 

As soon as Calum steps into the house, he can tell something isn’t right. The lights in the living room and kitchen are off, which doesn’t seem right. Usually Luke is on the living room couch, which is new thanks to Luke’s mum, waiting for Calum to come back. But he isn’t there. 

And it isn’t silent like it is in the horror movies Luke makes Calum watch sometimes. 

There’s noises, loud, disgusting ones. And Calum knows what they are. As his stomach turns, Calum’s face falls because he  _ knows  _ what this is, but he doesn’t want to believe it. 

Luke may be an abusive asshole that took advantage of Calum, but Calum never expected him to  _ cheat  _ on him. But then, he thinks, what better does he deserve? How could he think that he was special to Luke? 

How could he have thought that  _ three years  _ meant  _ anything? _ Why is he so  _ fucking stupid _ ! Why does he keep allowing his feelings to be crushed by this asshole? Why!

It’s kind of interesting though, Calum didn’t know there was a part of him left to break. What more could Luke take from his faded form? 

Dropping his bag to the floor, Calum collects himself before facing this issue. He closes his eyes tightly, fighting the tears because he shouldn’t be upset. He should have known this would happen. He couldn’t possibly expect Luke to be faithful to someone like  _ him _ , could he? 

_ Open your eyes, Calum. _

Suck it up. 

Calum slowly walks through the small apartment, and to Luke’s bedroom, where the door is partially closed. He can hear Luke calling whoever it is  _ baby  _ on the other side, and Calum’s heart jolts because Luke is supposed to be calling  _ him  _ baby, and fuck Calum can’t even remember the last time Luke did that. 

Calum bites his lip harshly, and with a final deep breath, pushes the door to the room open. 

It’s amazing, really, how fast the pathetic excuse for his heart is  _ shattered  _ by the sight inside. 

Calum expected it to be some young girl or even an older boy. He certainly did  _ not  _ expect his best, no, his  _ only  _ fucking friend to be in bed with his boyfriend of three years. 

Ashton sees him first, and the color drains out of his face. He immediately gasps, and then Luke turns around, and then it’s quiet. 

The two boys on the bed, thankfully covered by Luke’s sheets that he’s shared with Calum for so long, stare at Calum, who is red-cheeked, and gripping the door handle. Calum stares at them, looking like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and his heart breaks. 

Ashton’s face is one of  _ complete  _ horror, and Luke’s is plagued with guilt. The tension in the room builds to dangerous levels as Calum swallows, his eyes building with  _ burning  _ tears. The heartbreak, the... _ betrayal _ he feels right now is just...it’s  _ sickening _ , and he can’t...he can’t even  _ breathe  _ right now. His grip on the handle tightens. 

“Calum-” Luke starts, but Calum doesn’t give him the chance. If he has the chance, then Calum will do something stupid like  _ forgive  _ him, and...no. 

“It’s fine.” He chokes out, his voice sounding weak. It is. It’s fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. “It’s alright.” 

Luke opens his mouth to say something again, but Calum won’t have it. 

“I hope...I-I hope you t-two are happy t-together.” He whispers, looking at the floor. “You b-both deserve it.” 

Then he runs. 

His ears burning with embarrassment, Calum flees from the room he’s lived in for three years, and sprints for the door. He hears the bed creak behind him, meaning one of them got off, but he doesn’t stop to see which one it is. Calum quickly grabs his backpack, and slings it over his shoulder.

As he slams the door, the tears boil over, and he nearly trips down the stairs because his vision is so blurry. He can’t think right now, can’t breathe, he just feels so fucking  _ hurt _ , and this is so unfair, and Calum is so, so  _ tired  _ of it. 

He wanted to scream, to yell and throw things, to spit spiteful fury at both men until they couldn’t see anything but the  _ hurt  _ they’d given him. But he couldn’t. He could only play to his temperate nature, and flee from the scene, like a rabbit scampering away from the fire burning away its home. Calum is a coward, and he’s so angry with himself. So disgusted. He should have melted down in front of them, on the floor of  _ his  _ room, dammit, god knows they both deserve it. 

He...he put up with so much  _ bullshit,  _ he went through  _ hell  _ to keep that relationship alive for what? For it to end like this? Calum’s chest aches, and he doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t have anywhere  _ to  _ go, and he’s afraid that if he doesn’t pick a spot, he’ll end up at a bridge, with no reason to keep himself from jumping off. 

He’s disturbingly alone, and he can only think of  _ one  _ place to go. 

So, without really planning on it, he finds himself at Ashton’s apartment, which sends a whole new wave of pain rushing through his body, because it was one thing to lose his boyfriend of three years, but to lose him to  _ Ashton? _ Calum believed, truly believed that Ashton had  _ cared  _ about him. He believed in Ashton. Believed that he actually had a  _ chance _ because of him. 

But he was wrong. 

The hope Ashton had stored in him had been ripped away like stitches of a horrible wound. The reality of the situation was almost too much for Calum to bear, as he was bleeding now, with no way to stop it. 

No one would  _ ever  _ care about him. Calum just needed to sleep. He needed a break. He would decide in the morning, when his feelings had died down. He’d decide whether or not to continue. 

Not the relationship with Luke, but his life. Because that’s what it’s come to now. Live or not. 

Calum knocks on Ashton’s door, and he’s so shaken up that he doesn’t even think about who’s going to open the door because Ashton obviously isn’t  _ in, _ but he doesn’t worry for long because within a minute, the door is opening to reveal the roommate that Calum’s never met. 

Oh Christ. 

The roommate isn’t wearing a shirt, and has on blue plaid pajama bottoms. His bleached hair is in disarray and his eyes are bleary. Calum just woke him up. Fuck. 

“Um.” He says. Tears are still streaming down his face. 

“Calum?” The roommate asks, and huh. Calum’s never really thought about it, but the roommate has probably seen him before even if it hasn’t happened the other way around. 

“Y-Yeah.” He gets out eventually. The roommate, who is still holding the door wide open, looks over him for a moment. 

“What’re you doing here, mate?” He says. “It’s late, Luke’s probably losing his mind looking for you.” 

Calum just shakes his head, ignoring the bitter taste of irony on his tongue, and clenches his jaw. He leans forward on his toes, and wipes away his tears. 

“P-Please.” He whispers. “I don’t...I don’t h-have anywhere else t-to go.”

Calum must have looked even more pathetic than he thought because the roommate was opening the door wider, and allowing Calum in. Calum came into the apartment, wrapping his thin arms around his torso while tears spilled from his eyes. 

When the roommate placed a hand on the small of Calum’s back, the younger boy was too shaken up to flinch away, and he allowed himself to be ushered into the kitchen. He was still shaking with his sobs, and he was sure he looked like a mess as the roommate sat him down at the kitchen table. 

“It’s alright.” The roommate said, and Calum bit his lip because no one had told him that it was going to  _ alright  _ in so long that Calum didn’t believe that it ever  _ would be  _ again. 

While Calum was slowly losing his mind, the roommate began puttering around the kitchen, and something about it reminded Calum of how he met Luke in the coffee shop three years ago, and a new stab of pain wound its way to his heart. 

Then when the roommate brought him a cup of lemon tea and sat down across from him at the table, even  _ more  _ tears flooded Calum’s face, and when Calum thinks about it, it’s been a  _ long  _ time since he’s properly cried. It’s been a  _ long  _ time since he’s felt  _ anything _ . The roommate is being so  _ nice  _ to him, and he doesn’t even know Calum. Calum doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment from  _ anyone,  _ let alone Ashton’s roommate, who looks sleepy, and kind of cute with his mussed-up red hair. 

“T-Thank you.” He stutters out, taking the cup of tea, and scooting it closer to himself with his palm clumsily.The roommate nods. 

Calum sips the warm drink, letting it wash over his mouth, and down his throat, and his need to cry is slowly diminishing, and Calum can  _ feel  _ the numb taking over his body. 

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” The roommate asks, a subtle curiosity wedging his words. Calum kind of forgot he was there. He looks at the boy shyly, and strokes the scar under his eye like he does when he’s nervous. The movement catched Michael’s eyes, and it’s then that Calum realizes. 

He  _ knows  _ those green eyes. 

“P-Probably not.” He whispers. “I don’t want to put that on you, it’s not i-important.” 

The roommate raises a blonde eyebrow. 

“This might be rude, but you just showed up on my doorstep, sobbing that you had no other place to go.” He says, leaning back in his chair with a hint of a smirk. Calum looks at him with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m emotionally invested, and if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to know.”

For some reason, the way the roommate says it makes Calum’s cheeks light up like a Christmas tree. Maybe it’s because he’s teasing, and people don’t tease Calum, or maybe it’s because those green eyes are so unique, yet so shockingly familiar, and Calum can’t figure out why. 

Or maybe it’s because he sounds like he actually  _ cares  _ about what Calum’s feeling.

“It’s nothing.” He says, shutting down out of reflex. Old habits die hard. Luke never wanted to hear his problems. Calum hasn’t really talked about his feelings....ever. No one’s ever listened. 

“I doubt that.” The roommate says. There’s a cheeky little smile on his face, and Calum wishes he didn’t seem so  _ trustworthy.  _ The only people he’d ever put trust in betrayed it. 

“My...my boyfriend c-cheated on me.” He says quietly, ashamed, because even though his heart  _ screams  _ that this is on Luke, his head keeps telling him that Luke wouldn’t have cheated if Calum was  _ good enough _ . “And I c-can’t stay with h-him.” 

Calum had gotten the impression that the roommate was a laid back guy, so it was fair to say that when the roommate’s jaw and hands clenched simultaneously, Calum was a little shocked. A flush rose in the roommate’s face, but Calum wasn’t frightened. Only curious. 

“Luke?” The roommate asked, and Calum reeled backwards like he’d been slapped. How did the roommate know? 

“Y-Yes.” He stuttered out. “H-How...how do y-you-”

“We’re neighbors.” The roommate says. “Or at least, we used to be.” 

A slow realization dawns on Calum. 

“You’re...you’re t-the boy.” He says. “The one on the p-porch.” 

Even though it’s an incredibly vague statement, the roommate nods, because he remembers that day. 

“Yeah.” 

They’re silent for a minute. Calum’s head is pounding. So many things are going on, and what the roommate, whose name he doesn’t even know, said is cutting him deeper than he should. Why is he so  _ hung up  _ on those green eyes? 

Calum snaps out of his thoughts when fingers gently touch his face. He doesn’t flinch away, even when the finger tips touch the scar under his eye, which he even hated when Luke touched. The roommate is wiping his tears, which Calum didn’t even realize were falling until the roommate wiped them away. 

For some reason, the action is unbelievably intimate for Calum, and he catches his heart beating faster than it should. 

“Don’t cry.” The roommate says softly. “I’ve known Luke my whole life. He’s not worth crying over.”

Calum sniffles out a small chuckle. 

“Is Ashton?” He asks before he can stop himself. The fingers on his cheek stop, and the roommate sits back in his chair, looking at Calum with a confused expression. 

“Ashton?” He asks, cocking his head to the side a bit like the puppies Calum would sometimes pet in the pet store when he was in middle school as a temporary escape from his life. Calum nods slowly. He’s quickly getting himself in too deep with this. He tells himself to calm down. 

“Luke was cheating on m-me with Ashton.” He says softly. And wow, he’s never seen a jaw drop quite like that. 

There’s no other word for the look on Michael’s face except  _ shocked _ as he stares at Calum. He doesn’t believe it, but Calum wouldn’t lie about this. The hurt in Calum’s eyes proves it. 

“Oh shit.” The roommate says quietly. Calum looks at him with shy brown eyes. “Calum, I’m so sorry, man.” 

Calum shakes his head. 

“It’s fine.” He says quickly, because that’s his initial response to everything, because that’s the only option. Everything is fine, he’ll be fine. 

_ The sun will rise, and we will try again _ . 

“It’s not fine.” The roommate says. Calum tips his head back to look at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut because Michael is making him  _ feel _ , and Calum learned a long time ago that feeling will get himself killed. 

“I can’t believe Ashton would do that.” 

“It’s alright.” Calum whispers. He’s desperate to forget. “They’re p-probably good f-for each other.” 

Michael looks at Calum like he can’t  _ believe  _ what just came out of his mouth. This is why Calum doesn’t talk. 

“And what about you?” The roommate asks. Calum lets out a quiet laugh, and looks at the floor. 

“I don’t matter.” He says softly. The roommate opens his mouth to say something, but Calum is done for the evening.

He can’t imagine what he looks like in the boy’s eyes. Sitting here, at his dining table, clear tears trickling down his sunken cheeks from eyes that are burning too lowly for the spirit locked away inside. Calum is still weak from the beatings, and his skin is mottled slightly, swollen in places where Luke slammed him against the counter or the floor. He’s frail, and by no means pretty, and Calum is curious as to why the roommate hasn’t kicked him out yet. 

It would be easier than sending a stray dog away. 

“Please.” He says. “I d-don’t want to think a-about it anymore. I j-just...I need to sleep.” 

The roommate bites his lip, like he’s internally debating, before getting up from the table. Calum follows him wordlessly. Michael takes Calum into a room, and points to a bed. 

“You can sleep here for tonight. There’s spare toothbrushes in the cupboard if you need.” He says. He’s looking at Calum like he’s distracted. Calum blushes self-consciously, and the roommate looks away. “You can wear one of my shirts too.” 

The first thing that comes to Calum’s mind is  _ Luke,  _ and how he used to  _ beat  _ Calum if he was caught wearing one of his shirts. Calum’s lip wobbles. The roommate touches his arm softly. 

“It’s going to be alright.” He says, leading Calum to the bed. Calum sits down with a sniffle. 

“Is this...Ashton’s r-room?” He asks, feeling nauseous. The roommate shakes his head.

“It’s mine.” He says. Calum’s eyebrows turn up, because he’s surprised the roommate is letting him stay in his own room. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it, just get some sleep, okay?” 

Calum nods. 

The roommate bites his lip, and turns to go, but Calum catches his wrist. 

“Wait.” He says gently. The roommate looks  _ hopeful _ when he turns around. “I keep calling you ‘the roommate’ in my head. I think you deserve a real title.” 

The roommate gives Calum a small, almost bashful smile. 

“Michael.” He says. “Michael Clifford.” 

Then he’s gone, and Calum is staring at the door he left through. 

It isn’t until he’s brushed his teeth, and snuggled into Michael’s sheets while wearing one of the boy’s shirts that he realizes. 

He didn’t stutter when he talked to Michael the last time. 

What the actual fuck?

 

-

 

Calum wakes up to voices just outside Michael’s bedroom door. 

They’re faint, but as Calum wakes up even more, they grow louder, until Calum can finally make out the words. 

“Michael, seriously.” 

That’s Ashton. Calum feels like he’s going to vomit. 

“No, Ashton. I won’t let you.” Michael says back. He sounds angry, and Calum wonders what’s going on. 

“Please, Mike, I need to see him.” 

“For what?” Michael snaps. It takes Calum a second to realize that they must be talking about  _ him _ , and when it settles with him, Calum’s heart momentarily stops. 

“I just need to explain-”

“Explain  _ what _ , Ashton?” Michael cuts off. Calum is a little shocked to hear the pure  _ defensiveness  _ in his voice. No one’s  _ ever _ been defensive for Calum. “You  _ slept  _ with Calum’s  _ abusive  _ boyfriend.” 

Calum flinches, retreating into the covers. He didn’t know Michael knew, but Michael didn’t look stupid. And Calum was fairly obvious. Michael had to know. Calum has to stop holding out hope for things that are inevitable. 

“Did you ever consider that I did that for Calum’s own good?” Ashton screams, louder than Calum has  _ ever  _ heard him talk, and it scares him a little bit. Luke used to yell sometimes. And his mother almost always did. Besides, Calum doesn’t understand what Ashton means. 

“What the fuck, Ash?” Michael says simply. “How could  _ any  _ of this been for his  _ own good _ ?” 

“Calum and Luke needed to break up, Michael, and-”

“And  _ this  _ was your solution? To make Luke cheat on Calum with you?” Michael snaps. “No, no way, I don’t accept that.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No.” Michael says. “You’ve been in love with Luke since we were  _ sixteen _ . Even if your intentions were good, I don’t believe you did this out of selflessness.” 

It’s quiet for a second. Calum can hardly breathe. He has to stop thinking, it hurts. 

“What was I supposed to do, Michael?” Ashton says, quieter than before... _ sinister  _ almost with how soft it is. “I couldn’t just watch Luke beat Calum to death.” 

“You could have, oh  _ I don’t know _ , talked to him!” Michael yells back. Calum grips the blankets tightly in his fist. 

“I tried, Michael!” Ashton screamed. “I tried everyday. Calum wouldn’t talk to me, he’s incapable of communicating!”

“Really?” Michael says. Calum imagines he’s crossing his arms. “Because I had a pretty intelligible conversation with him last night.” 

Ashton is quiet. 

“You and I both know that we would have never convinced Calum to leave Luke.” Ashton says. “And Luke? He beat the shit out of Calum when I tried to talk to him about it. Luke needs  _ help _ , Michael, but the only way I can get it to him is if he and Calum aren’t seeing each other.” 

“So you decided to shatter Calum’s heart to help  _ Luke _ ?” Michael says. 

It’s like a slap in the face, it’s so dry and unexpected. The voices in the hall are silent, and Calum hears soft steps.

“That’s  _ bullshit  _ Ashton.” Michael says.“Come back when you have a better reason. I’m not going to let you see him.” 

Then the footsteps are louder, and it ends with a door closing. Calum squeezes his eyes shut, and shrinks into the sheets. 

Within a minute or two, the door to the bedroom is opening, and Michael is coming in, dressed in black sweats and a ripped up Metallica t-shirt. His hair is a bit more tame than it was last night, and he looks...nice. Domestic. 

“I come bearing gifts.” He says when he sees Calum is awake, setting a cup of coffee down on the bedside table. Calum looks up at him curiously from his blanket prison, and Michael rubs the back of his neck. 

“I just...I was making some, and I thought I’d make you some too.” He says with something that looks suspiciously like a blush on his cheeks. Calum is a little perplexed. Nobody’s ever felt... _ bashful  _ towards him before. 

“Thank you.” He says softly. Michael nods, and sits down on the end of the bed, facing the wall, and away from Calum. “I’m sorry, by the way.” 

Michael chuckles a little, and turns around. 

“ _ You’re  _ sorry?” He asks with a charming smile of slightly crooked teeth. “What could  _ you  _ possibly be sorry for?” 

Calum shrugs, and emerges from the safety of the sheets for a minute. 

“A lot of things.” He whispers softly. “But I never wanted to get between you and Ashton.” 

Michael scoffs, but his eyes look darker than usual. 

“Ashton was being a self-absorbed ass, and I only give him hell because I know he can do better, and because…” Michael trails off for a moment. “Because he hurt you in the process, and I may not know a lot about you, but if I know anything, it’s that you don’t deserve to be hurt by anyone ever again.” 

Michael’s eyes are so  _ genuine  _ that they hurt to look at a little, and Calum feels like words have never been further out of reach than they are now, and he can’t do anything to respond but smile softly to himself. Who is this boy with the green eyes that seems to care about him so much?

“ _ Oh _ .” He says, because he doesn’t know  _ what  _ to say, and Michael needs an answer. Michael just sighs though, and looks away from Calum. Calum doesn’t know why that bothers him. 

“So,” Michael says, standing up, and looking at Calum’s small frame protected by blankets. “What now?” 

That’s a very good question. Calum doesn’t know. He’s kind of screwed. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, no one to turn to. He’s almost done with college, and he’s extremely alone. He shrugs, trying to feel like he isn’t panicking on the inside. 

“Obviously, you’re not staying with Luke anymore.” Michael says, making that decision himself, it seems. “I’ll stop by, and get your things later today. And you’ll just have to stay here until you finish school.” 

Calum’s face flushes because he doesn’t know what that means. He can’t stay here. Why is Michael being so  _ nice  _ to him? Can’t he see that Calum isn’t worth it? He shakes his head, and Michael looks confused. 

“No, I can’t do that to you.” He says. “This is you and Ashton’s home. I can’t stay here.” 

Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Please. My parents pay for it.” He says with a soft smile that pulls at something inside Calum. Calum looks up at him with an unsure expression, his bottom lip drawn into his mouth. 

“I can’t. Where would I stay?” 

“In my room.” Michael shrugs. Calum’s eyes widen.

“What? Michael, no. This is  _ your  _ room, I can’t do that.” He says quickly, feeling heat rush into his cheeks. Michael gives Calum a small smile that seems to mean a lot more than it looks like. He looks... _ charmed _ . 

“I want you to, though.” He says gently. “I don’t want you out on the streets, or even worse, on my couch. Besides, it’ll be good for my ego.” 

Calum frowns a little, and looks away from Michael’s enchanting features. He thinks that if he looks at those rounded nose for one more minute, he’ll fall deeply in love, and he only met Michael last night. 

“I’m not worth that.” He says softly. 

When Michael’s hands touch Calum’s cheeks it doesn’t feel frightening, and it doesn’t feel foreign, it just feels...safe. Calum slowly locks eyes with Michael when the older boy drags his thumb over the prominent scar under his eye. 

“You are.” Michael says. His tone is serious, deadly almost. It transfixes Calum, because suddenly Michael seems so much older, and he seems so much younger, and Calum  _ swears  _ Michael’s green eyes are more familiar than they should be. 

Calum forces himself to look away, because  _ things  _ are going on, and the last time those  _ things  _ happened, Calum ended up stuck in an abusive relationship that ended in heartbreak. He can't allow that again. 

“Just ‘till the end of the year?” He whispers. He doesn’t understand why he’s so comfortable. Doesn’t understand why he’s accepting this. 

Michael nods, and it looks like he’s suppressing a smile. 

“Just until you’re on your own two feet again, alright?” He says. Calum bites his lip. 

“And Ashton?” He asks. 

“I think Ashton owes you more than sharing his free apartment that smells like Cheerio’s 24-7.” Michael says with a goofy smile. Calum feels his heart softening just a  _ tiny  _ bit. The bruises on his face don’t ache as bad as they usually do. Michael is gentle with him. 

“Okay.” He says softly. Michael breaks into a smile. He releases Calum, and stands up again. 

“It’s settled, then.” He says. “We’ll get you moved in tonight. For now though,” Michael winks at Calum, and nods towards the steaming mug on the cabinet. “You drink that coffee, and get some rest.”

Calum smiles, and nods. 

“I will.” He says quietly. “Thank you.”

Michael leaves with a wink, and Calum bites his lip to keep the stupid smile at bay. While he picks up the coffee, and takes a big gulp of the cinnamon drink, he can only think about one thing. 

He’s grateful he didn’t jump off that bridge last night. 

 

-

 

The first two months in the apartment are tense. 

It’s clear that Michael is still thoroughly pissed with Ashton when he returns, and Calum keeps his distance. He sat on Michael’s bed while the two of them had the chat about Calum moving in. 

That was horribly awkward. 

It was clear from day one that Ashton had wanted to talk with Calum, but Michael had went ahead and made himself in charge of all of Calum’s affairs, and he said nay. Calum didn’t mind. Michael wasn’t over-bearing like Luke had been, and he had Calum’s own good in mind when he did the things he did. He was strangely protective over the younger boy from the day he moved in, and Calum didn’t really know how to react to that behavior. No one had ever gone out of their way to make sure he was safe, let alone to the extent that Michael did. 

Calum didn’t even  _ do  _ anything for Michael. He even took his bed. He was nothing but a burden for Michael, he didn’t understand how the bleached boy could be so sweet to him. 

Once the initial tension faded though, and Calum had warmed up to Ashton a bit, things settled pretty easily. Calum still woke up from nightmares occasionally, and would manage to coax himself back to sleep. Everytime he woke up though, it seemed that Michael did too, and listening to Michael putter around the apartment early in the morning helped Calum to relax. The bruises faded and the gashes healed, and things were getting better. 

Michael stays on the couch in living room, but as the anger fades out of him, he finds himself climbing in Ashton’s bed, and snuggling with his oldest friend at night. Calum doesn’t mind it, after all, it’s not Michael’s fault that he and Ashton are at odds. Calum mostly goes to school, comes home, and goes straight into Michael’s room for the night. 

He does homework or reads or looks up videos on Michael’s laptop which is basically Calum’s by now anyway. Michael is so good to him. Even though the bruises on his stomach have healed significantly, Calum still doesn’t eat very much, mostly because the food at Michael’s house is for Michael and Ashton, not him. 

So he survives on his meal plan at the school, which means shitty slices of pizza and endless cups of coffee. 

Michael’s a sweetheart, and he’s by far the best person Calum has ever met. For one, he seems to genuinely like Calum, and that’s something Calum never expected out of a person like him. Michael is loud and energetic, and a little bit flighty. He re dyes his hair at least once a month, orders pizza once a week, and seems to have a slight fear of commitment. He laughs ten times as many times as he frowns, and the thing about him is that he never  _ meant  _ to make Calum feel better. He just has that affect. 

Calum, who's been subjected to nothing but negativity or neutrality his whole life, finds it appealing how fucking positive Michael is all the time. It seems tiring, laughing and smiling all the time, but Michael does it, and he’s still in one piece. He kind of intrigues Calum, as the Maori boy often finds himself feeding off the energy Michael so selflessly provides.  

Tonight, though, Michael had finally caught on, and has pinned Calum in his room. 

“Calum Hood,” He says, barging through the door, forgoing knocking completely. “You are coming out of this bedroom, now.” 

Calum is surprised in how he doesn’t feel panicked. If this had been two months ago, he would have shaken, and maybe hyperventilated at the demand. 

“Michael, I could have been naked in here.” He says simply instead, burrowing into the blankets further, making the laptop shift. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“It’s my room.” He says petulantly. Calum peeks over the top of the quilt at him. Michael is moving about the room, doing god knows what, looking at some of the papers Calum is working on on the desk. 

When Calum moved in, Michael had been surprised at how little Calum had. Calum never had very much, even when he lived at home, but he left everything at home behind except for a few crucial things. The most important thing he had was a picture of him and his dad, which he kept inside a pillowcase that he slept on usually. He never showed anyone, not even Luke. 

But Calum had unofficially taken over at least half of Michael’s wardrobe, because Michael allowed it, and he didn’t hit Calum for wearing his clothes. They were usually too big on Calum, but Michael had figured that was because Calum seemed underfed, even though Luke had never starved him or anything. 

“There’s pizza in the kitchen.” Michael says, picking up one of Calum developed pictures, and inspecting it. “I suggest you come eat it with me.” 

Calum turns over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. 

“I’m not hungry.” He says, but it sounds like a lie even to himself, and Michael has some sort of sixth sense about lying, so there was no way that one was going to slide. Before Michael can say anything, the boy himself is plopping on the bed on his stomach, too far for it to be uncomfortable, but close enough that it’s clear he won’t take no for an answer. 

“You’re skin and bones.” Michael says. Calum tips his head to look at him. “Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed you’re not eating?” 

Calum raises an eyebrow, because, no. He hadn’t thought Michael would notice. Nobody had ever cared if Calum got enough to eat. Calum just stared at Michael, and Michael rested his chin on his folded arms. 

“You’re doing it again.” Michael says. 

“Doing what?” Calum asks, his voice croaky. Planet Earth is still playing on the laptop, and Calum is kind of glad it’s on, otherwise this would feel like A Moment, and he’s not ready for that. His heart still aches from Luke, even if it’s been three months. 

“Looking at me like I’m growing antennas.” Michael says. The outrageous simile makes Calum let out a fit of giggles, and when he laughs, the lines in Michael’s forehead cease, and maybe Calum’s heart feels kinda healed when he sees that, but he ignores it. 

“Why do you do that?” Michael asks. Calum studies his face for a moment, because he didn’t even notice he did it. But he’s not that surprised. He shrugs, and faces the ceiling again., 

“I think it’s because I’ve never met anyone like you, and I’m a little blown away that you’re even  _ real _ .” He whispers. He doesn’t realize how fucking true it is until he’s saying it out loud. Michael is a special kind of person, and even if Calum isn’t falling for him, he still treats Calum better than anyone ever has, and Calum clings to that, because maybe the way Michael treats him is the way people are  _ supposed  _ to treat others. 

“I’m not anything special, Calum.” He says with an amused tone. Calum snorts. 

“You don’t understand.” He says, shaking his head. He really likes the fact that he doesn’t stutter around Michael. It’s probably because he doesn’t make Calum nervous at all. “You gave me a place to live.” 

“That’s just common good, y’know. I’m happy to help a bum out every once and awhile.” Michael says with a mischievous smile on his face. Calum looks at him with an exasperated expression before huffing, and sitting up. Michael does too. 

“Thanks for that.” Calum says softly. Michael rolls his eyes, and drags his knees to his chest like Calum does sometimes when he struggles. 

“You damn well know that isn’t what I meant.” He says. Calum ignores him, because he does know. Michael was just making a joke. He searches the floor for an acceptable shirt to wear incase Ashton comes home. “Calum.” 

“I know, Michael.” He says, picking up an All Time Low vest, and sniffing it. God no. They need to do laundry. He pulls a face, and sets it back down. Michael giggles. As Calum finally puts on a grey Henley, deciding boxers were good enough, and walks past Michael to eat some of his pizza, Michael catches his wrist. Calum is surprised at himself,  because normally, he would have flinched back so hard, he would have fallen down. Flinching away is in his blood by this point. 

“Are you really confused as to why I treat you the way that I do?” He asks, his green eyes full of all sorts of things that Calum can’t even name. Everything is confusing him. He nods slowly. Michael laughs, his bright white teeth almost blinding Calum, and for a minute, Calum feels  _ extremely  _ vulnerable, because Michael is just so  _ pretty _ , and he’s  _ touching  _ Calum, and this feels like how it’s supposed to feel. Calum quickly fixes the steel encasing his heart to keep it safe. 

“Yes.” He answers. 

“You deserve to be treated with the best.” Michael grins, like he genuinely believes it. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the  best, but I’m giving you everything I can.” 

Calum looks at Michael with a confused expression, and Michael laughs. 

“You’re doing the face again.” He says. Then his smile slowly fades. “You don’t think you deserve the best?” 

Calum shakes his head, and tries to pull his arm away. This topic isn’t safe. He needs to get out of this. Michael will think he’s insane, and kick him out. 

“I know I don’t. But I don’t want to think about it, Michael.” He says softly. Michael’s expression is suddenly pained, and Calum never wanted that. 

“How could you  _ not  _ think that, Calum?” He asks. Calum shrugs. 

“I just don’t see what there is in me to deserve anything but what I’ve received my whole life.” He whispers so quietly it’s almost silent, and it’s  _ crushing  _ how true that is to Calum. He’s only ever been treated one way, and he  _ knows  _ deep in his heart, that that’s all he’ll ever be worth. He doesn’t deserve to be cared for, and he doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment from Michael. He doesn’t deserve anything but pain and heartbreak. Maybe that’s why he keeps seeing Michael, because he know how it will ultimately end. 

“Are you  _ insane _ ?” Michael asks, his green eyes wide. Calum shrugs again. 

“Probably.” He says quietly. Michael shakes his head, and reaches for Calum’s other hand. Calum lets him take it shyly. 

“Calum.” Michael says seriously. “ _ Everything  _ in you deserves better than  _ everything  _ you’ve received your whole life. How can you not see that?” 

Calum feels his eyes sting as tears collect, because he doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to admit to Michael the truth. 

“Because I’ve never known any different.” Calum whispers eventually. “That’s the only explanation for all of the  _ bullshit  _ I’ve put up with. I’m not... _ right,  _ Michael. Why else would Luke have beat me?” 

Michael flinches backwards because Calum sounds painfully honest, like he genuinely believes that. The green-eyed boy shakes his head. 

“Luke was screwed up, Calum. That’s on him, not you.” He says, studying Calum’s face. Calum curls away from him, but doesn’t try to pull away. He almost moves  _ closer _ . 

“And what about my-” 

Calum’s soft voice is cut off when the door to the apartment is slammed open. Calum flinches away, but it only worsens when the voices cut through the door. It’s Ashton, which is normal, and  _ Luke _ . Calum looks in horror towards the door, his body already shaking as the two boys who entered the house giggle and run into things. Michael scowls, and stands up, spinning them so Calum can sit down on the bed. Calum immediately clenches his fists, and bites his lip. His eyes are watering. 

Michael curses to himself, and steps out of the room, closing the door to his room quietly. There they are, Ashton and Luke, obviously piss-drunk, and tangled up on the couch, giggling into each other’s mouths. Michael feels white-hot rage burn through his body. 

He prays Calum won’t see this. This is just insult to injury. How fucking stupid can Ashton be? 

“Oi.” Michael says, walking to the couch. “Assholes, get off my bed.” 

Ashton slowly pulls his face away from Luke’s long enough to look up at Michael. Michael spots a bruise at the base of his throat. Man, Luke just can’t stop. Except Michael knows that Ashton’s bruise is from Luke’s mouth, and Calum’s still-healing (four months later) bruises are from Luke’s fists. 

“What’re you talking about, Michael?” Ashton slurs. He giggles when Luke touches his dimples. “This is the couch. Your bed’s over-over there.” 

Wow, it’s been a long, long time since Michael has seen Ashton this hammered. Luke must work some pretty kick ass magic to get Ashton to this point. Michael has never particularly liked Luke, but this...this is a whole new level of hatred. 

“No, Ashton.” Michael says sternly, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re obviously too drunk to be thinking straight.  _ Calum  _ is in my room.” 

Ashton just giggles again, but Luke pauses. 

“Then go sleep with him.” Ashton laughs, laying his head on Luke’s chest. Luke looks up at Michael with concerned blue eyes. 

“No.” Michael says, shaking his head. 

“Calum’s here?” Luke asks. Michael ignores him. This is a mess. Ashton is tracing his fingers over Luke’s throat, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Lukey, you’re all... _ stubbly _ .” Ashton laughs. 

“Okay.” Michael says, then he leans down, and takes Ashton, dragging him off Luke by his armpits. Luke lets him go, but Ashton struggles a bit. 

“ _ Michael _ , what the hell are you doing?” He complains. Michael scoffs. 

“Finally paying you back for saving my ass in college.” Michael says because it wasn’t long ago that he was in Ashton’s shoes, ready to put himself in any willing stranger’s hands to distract him.

“But I’m having  _ fun _ .” Ashton whispers, falling limply against Michael. Luke watches them silently, his half-mast going down quickly. Michael thinks he’s  _ way  _ less drunk than Ashton is. 

“I know, bub. But you can barely walk. There’s no way you’re having sex right now.” Michael says, and he situates Ashton so he can leans against him while they walk. “Say goodnight.” 

Ashton hiccups, and lets his head loll against Michael’s shoulder.  _ Jesus _ what did he drink? 

“Good-” He hiccups. “Goodnight, Lukey. I  _ love  _ you!” 

Michael does his best to ignore the  _ honesty  _ in Ashton’s voice, and does even better to ignore the way Luke rolls his eyes fondly. Do these two even  _ know  _ what they’re doing? 

Once Michael gets Ashton situated in bed, he returns to the living room, where Luke is sitting up on the couch, his face etched with concern. He turns around to Michael when he arrives. There’s tears trickling down his cheeks. 

“Did you...did you say that Calum’s  _ here _ ?” He asks. His voice is so soft that Michael almost feels bad for him. 

Almost. 

“I might have.” Michael says, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s it to you?” 

Luke turns to face him fully. 

“I need to see him. Please.” He says desperately. His hands are twitching where they clutch each other tightly.

“No.” Michael shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Neither of you are in condition to see the other.” 

Luke’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Is he all right?” He whispers. Michael sighs. 

“He’s fine. He’s better than he was with you.” He says. 

Luke’s face turns to guilt. 

“I miss him.” He says quietly, almost to himself. Michael goes to the front of the couch, and takes in Luke. He’s drunk, sober enough to  _ understand,  _ but drunk enough to not be able to go home. Michael groans internally. He crouches down in front of Luke. 

“I hate you, y’know?” He says softly. Luke’s face is so,  _ so  _ pitiful when he looks at Michael, helpless and small. Michael remembers when they were in high school, he remembers how he and Luke competed for everything. He remembers how Luke almost always won. 

“I know.” Luke says in a broken voice. Michael wants to feel satisfied by this vision of Luke, for all that he’s done to him in the past...for all that he’s done to  _ Calum  _ in the past, but he can’t. This whole thing is just one big tragedy. 

“He misses you too.” He says gently. “But you can’t see him. I won’t let you, not now. You really fucked up with him.” 

Luke nods. 

“I know I did.” He whispers. Michael runs a hand through his hair in a stressed manner. 

“You’re not a bad person, Luke. It’s not in you. I’ve known you forever. What you did to Calum wasn’t acceptable, but that’s in the past.” Michael says. “Just listen to me, okay? If you try  _ any  _ of that shit on Ashton, I will rip you to shreds, you understand me? And if I see you near Calum before I okay it, then I’ll  _ never  _ let Ashton get close to you.” 

Luke nods at the serious tone, he looks a little frightened. For a moment, Luke looks so small and vulnerable that he can’t ever imagine Luke as intimidating or abusive. The thought makes his head hurts. Luke hiccups. 

“Here.” Michael says, handing Luke a blanket from the chest. “You’re in no shape to get yourself home. You’ll have to stay here. Lay down.” 

Luke does as he’s told, and curls his six-foot-something frame up on its side under the blanket. Michael lets out a small breath. He touches Luke’s side as he leaves, and the ‘thank you’ that leaves Luke’s mouth breaks him more than anything else ever has. 

Why is his life so difficult?

As Michael enters his room again, where Calum is, he thinks he must have  _ really  _ fucked up in a past life, because the frightened college boy Michael met so long ago is curled up on his side, his face smothered by a pillow, and his small body shaking. The Henley sleeves are too long, and they give Calum  _ adorable  _ sweater paws, and Calum’s cries are so sad, Michael just wants to scoop him up in his arms. But this is a delicate situation. 

“Oh Calum.” He says softly. Calum hiccups into the pillow, and Michael sits down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t cry.” 

Calum shakes his head, and slowly, lifts his face from the pillow. His eyes are red and puffy from crying. 

“Is he...is he gone?” He asks in a gentle voice. Michael shakes his head slowly, feeling incredibly guilty. Calum’s eyes widen. 

“ _ Michael _ .” He says, sounding completely frightened. “Michael, please, you can’t let him get to me, he’ll be so  _ angry _ ,  _ please _ , I haven’t done anything wrong, please, please make him go.” 

Michael’s heart breaks as Calum begs, and he shushes Calum, because fresh tears are beginning to fall quietly, and Michael can tell that the small boy is on the verge of complete panic. Michael turns his body to Calum’s, and hugs him warmly, letting Calum fist his fingers in his shirt, and tuck his face into his neck. 

“It’s alright, Calum, it’s alright.” He says softly. “I’m not gonna let him hurt you, it’s alright, you’re safe.” 

Calum shudders in Michael’s grasp. Michael runs his hands down the plane of Calum’s back, rubbing the soft material of his shirt covering the boy’s ribs and chest. Calum feels so  _ small _ , and Michael doesn’t know what to  _ do _ . 

So he does what his heart  _ screams  _ for him to do. He gently pushes Calum down onto his side, and lays down behind him, pulling the smaller, crying boy close to his chest. He wraps his arms around Calum’s waist, and buries his nose into his black curls. 

When Calum finally begins to relax, convinced that he’s as safe as he’s ever been, because Michael’s body is blocking the door from him, blocking Luke and his mother, and anyone else who could ever hurt him, Michael takes a hand from Calum’s waist, and presses play on the laptop. Sounds of Planet Earth have never sounded so good to both boys as they lay cuddled together under the sheets. Calum can feel Michael’s heart beating against his back, and even though he and Luke spooned all the time, this feels... _ different  _ somehow, twice as intimate as it ever did when he and Luke did. And he and Michael are just friends. 

But when Michael thinks Calum is asleep, and tries to slip away, Calum mutters for him to stay. 

So you can’t blame Michael for wondering, as he settles in for the night snuggled up to the abused boy, if maybe they’re just a little bit more than that. 

 

-

 

So maybe Michael’s back heals because he doesn’t sleep on the couch anymore. 

And maybe Calum’s nightmares go away, and maybe both boys look at the other for a second longer than they should. 

Maybe Calum is falling in love again. And maybe Michael’s been in love since the day Calum showed up on the doorstep. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Calum doesn’t really know how exactly it happens, but he doesn’t really mind. One day Michael was sleeping on the couch, and the next...he was spooning Calum until they fell asleep. Calum liked the way Michael held him, even if it was strictly platonic despite the fact that they could both feel the undeniable chemistry building between them. When Michael folded his hands around Calum’s waist, Calum sometimes would touch them, and maybe stroke his thumb across the smooth skin because it calmed him down when his heart raced too fast. 

Calum liked Michael’s anchor tattoo. Maybe because he touched it every night when he fell asleep, and maybe because Michael was Calum’s anchor, and the inked segment of the pale skin just helped to remind him of that. 

As for Michael, well, the answer came to him in the middle of the night during the second week of summer, when Calum had yet to move out because neither of them wanted him to. They shared a room now, anyway, what was the point? 

Michael had been woken up by Calum whimpering in his sleep, and even though Michael was forever-patient when it came to Calum’s past, he was getting really,  _ really  _ sick of hearing Calum whimper Luke’s name in the middle of the night. 

Michael had calmed Calum down, and when the younger boy was soundly back asleep, Michael got up to go to the bathroom. As he left the dimly-lit room, he was met by the image of Calum snuggled up in  _ his  _ bed, peacefully sleeping half-naked in one of Michael’s shirts, and  _ fuck _ , what was Michael even  _ doing _ ?

Standing there, half-awake, staring at Calum’s sleeping body that was  _ finally  _ liberated of bruises, Michael realized that he was fucking  _ in love  _ with him. He loved everything about Calum. Every part of Calum that there was, Michael had found it, and fallen a hundred and ten percent for it. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being away from Calum, and the feeling in his chest that buzzed around like a purr when Calum was around was undeniable. 

Michael  _ wanted  _ Calum in every way that there was to want someone. 

With this new mind-shattering realization, Michael gathered himself, and climbed back into bed. Calum let out a soft sound when Michael’s skin touched his, like his body was automatically reacting to Michael, and if Michael wasn’t already sure, well he damn well was then. 

So yeah, Michael was in love. And he was in love with a beautiful Maori boy that had been abused by a boy who was dating his best friend for three years. 

But Michael quickly learned that the domestic abuse Calum suffered from was only the mere tip of the iceberg. It took six months of living together, and two months of sleeping in the same bed for Calum to tell Michael about his child abuse. 

Michael had been shocked, flat-out flabbergasted by the admission, and his heart  _ ached.  _ Calum was such a sweetheart, and Michael couldn’t even wrap his head around the idea of someone wanting to harm a younger version of him now. 

Because Calum, under the years of abuse and neglect, was incredible. Calum was naturally gentle, and Michael noticed that any sort of violence made his stomach turn. Calum liked pretty, calm things, like reading and music, and the goldfish Michael had brought home for him one night. He liked mac’n’cheese from the box, and he liked to stroke Michael’s hair when it was freshly-dyed. He smiled when Michael played his guitar, even when he played it badly, and he stroked the photos he developed with a sense of pride and nostalgia, even if the picture was a blade of grass or the edge of a brick wall. He pulled faces when Ashton and Michael insulted each other, and he flinched when either of the boys would yell. 

The traces of all the abuse were still there, but Michael had long since decided that like everyone, pieces of Calum’s past will stick to him no matter how much he wants to let them go. There wasn’t anything either of them could do about that except try and make his future as good as possible. 

So maybe sleeping in the same bed, and hiding inevitable feelings from one another aren’t a bad thing. 

Maybe none of this is. 

 

-

 

Calum gets a job at a local newspaper. 

It’s a really nice job, all he does is drive around town, and takes pictures of people and places and events. Because of his degree in music (which is basically pointless until he gets his teaching degree), he’s often sent to take pictures of musical events, which means he gets a lot of tickets to concerts and shit that are in town. 

So, naturally, he takes Michael with him. 

Michael generally works all day at his shitty little record shop, so by the time the night rolls around, and Calum comes up to him, his hands closed around a pair of tickets, and a hopeful expression, Michael is more than eager to go. 

Tonight, they’re seeing a local band that consists of four teenagers that sing love songs so sappy that they make Calum, the biggest sweetheart on the planet, want to shoot himself. The lead singer has really long brown hair that curls around his shoulders, and his guitar’s paint is extremely chipped. The venue they’re in is old and creaky, and it smells like moldy coffee, but it isn’t actually horrible like it would have been if Michael wasn’t there. 

After Calum takes some action shots of the questionable drummer, Michael catches him. Setting a cup of beer down, Michael takes Calum’s camera from him, and sets it on the table they claimed when they walked in. 

“I think you’ve gotten enough.” He says, taking Calum’s hand. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Mikey, this is my  _ job _ , you can’t keep me from doing it because you want to go home.” Calum returned, even though he wasn’t really that upset. 

“Who said I wanted to go home?” Michael asks, looking down at Calum, even though they’re close in height. Calum blushes in surprise as Michael pulls him onto the floor designated for dancing, fitting in with the small crowd of a few hundred people on the rotted planks of the floor. Michael situates his hands in Calum’s like he wants to dance, and Calum panics. 

“Michael.” He says. Michael hums, distracted by looking at the floor, situating their feet by kicking at Calum’s ankles teasingly. It’s stupidly endearing. “What are you doing?” 

Michael looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He asks. And there’s no other word than ‘beautiful’ to describe how Calum looks next, glowering at Michael in the low lights of the venue. 

“Well,” Calum says with attitude. “It  _ looks  _ like you’re trying to dance with me, but-”

“Yes.” Michael says simply, looking at Calum with a simple expression. “Yes, that’s what I’m doing. I want to dance.” 

Calum huffs, his cheeks heating up. His curls fall into his eyes, and Michael kind of likes how shy he looks even though it’s kind of pointless. 

“I can’t dance, Michael, I never...I never learned how.” Calum whispers, feeling self-conscious because sometimes not knowing how to do things makes him upset. Michael just smiles sweetly, and squeezes Calum’s hand gently. 

“It’s alright, it’s just me, it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.” He says smoothly, and Calum turns brighter red, because he kind of  _ is  _ trying to impress someone, even though that person is completely oblivious to him. 

“You didn’t even ask.” Calum mumbles as Michael starts to sway their bodies together to the beat of the music. Michael laughs. 

“Didn’t think I needed to.” He says in that carefree voice that’s always drawn Calum in like bees to honey. “Didn’t know I was gonna be rejected this much, even though  _ you  _ were the one who asked me on a date.”

Calum  _ blazes  _ with that comment, but Michael has started to move them, so his regular flight reflex won’t work here. He dips his head, and lets out a pained breath. 

“S’not a  _ date _ .” He mumbles. Michael looks at Calum with a soft expression, and even in the dim light, Michael’s eyes hold  _ galaxies  _ to Calum, and sometimes Calum can’t even breathe when he sees them. Michael shifts them again so that they’re properly dancing to a sappy love song. 

“It kind of is.” He whispers. Calum frowns. 

“I’m still in my work clothes.” Calum points out, letting himself be moved by Michael. “If this was a date I would have put on acceptable clothing, and I wouldn’t have brought my camera.” 

Michael takes that into consideration for a minute, and Calum tries not to focus on the curve of his lips. 

“Well we’ve always kind of deviated, don’t you think?” He says with a sly little smile that metaphorically knocks Calum on his ass. His face turns red again, and why, why is Michael doing this to him? 

“I do think that.” He whispers. He leans a bit closer to Michael, and lets his head rest against the boy’s shoulder. “But this isn’t a date.” 

Calum kind of thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust when he feels Michael’s lips on his head. It’s gentle, just like every other part of their relationship, a soft peck to the top of his head. Still, Calum kind of wants to explode. 

“Whatever you say, Calum.” Michael says, and then he focuses on dancing. 

And maybe, as Michael sways them together on the floor of the shitty venue with even shittier music playing in the background, Calum thinks that maybe yeah, this kind of is a date. 

 

-

 

From that point on, it almost turns into a competition of sorts. 

Who will break first. 

Michael automatically thinks he has it in the bag, because like, he’s charming as  _ fuck _ , but there was one thing he failed to take into account. 

Calum, as it turns out, is a  _ vicious  _ flirt. 

It blows Michael away a little because Calum is so... _ timid _ in his actions. He was just shocked when Calum did some of the things he did. He would squirm his bum against Michael at night, pretending to be asleep, even though Michael had been sleeping with Calum long enough to know when said boy was  _ truly  _ asleep, and he was  _ far  _ from slumber when he pulled that shit. That ended up being a problem, and Michael sometimes had to turn over to avoid poking Calum with his boner. Calum also liked to walk out of the shower in nothing but a towel, and ‘accidentally’ drop it so it fell dangerously low around his hips when Michael happened to be in the room. 

He threw backhanded comments, touched Michael in intimate spots, and left little kisses on his hands and neck. Michael could hardly believe it. 

But here he is, chilling on the couch at eight in the morning, his hand down his boxers, lazily watching Adventure Time on the television. Calum, as far as Michael knows, is still happily passed out on the bed, snoring softly. 

But Michael is surprised when Calum comes flouncing out in one of Michael’s shirts that reaches his mid thigh, and walks  _ right in front  _ of the tv. Of course it catches Michael’s attention, the little asshole. 

“Excuse you, Mr. Hood,” Michael says tiredly. “I was watching that.” 

Calum turns to Michael with a seemingly innocent smile that quickly turns to a smirk. 

“Sorry.” He says in a high-pitched voice. “Maybe you should watch  _ me  _ instead.” 

Then he walks off, going into the kitchen to do whatever it is he does in the mornings. Michael doesn’t really care, he’s a little preoccupied with what the fuck just happened. By the time Calum comes back, a cup of tea in his hands, Michael still hasn’t quite figured it out. 

Calum sits down on the couch, elbowing Michael’s feet out of the way, and curling up, making the shirt ride up around his thighs. 

“Calum Thomas Hood, did you just... _ flirt  _ with me?” Michael asks. Now would be a good time to get his hand out of his pants. Calum looks at him with wide eyes. 

“What’s flirting?” He asks, and wow.  _ Wowwwww _ . The bastard. 

“Are you kidding me?” Michael asks. Calum just shrugs, but it looks like he’s trying to suppress a smile, so Michael knows this is all bullshit. “You are so full of it, Calum, I swear to god.” 

Calum lets a lazy smile crawl onto his face as he leans his head back against the couch. His eyes are gentle as they look over Michael. 

“You wanted to though, didn’t you?” He whispers. Michael makes a grunting noise to show he doesn’t know what Calum means. Calum blushes a little when he continues. “You wanted to watch me.” 

Michael’s blood all at once rushes to his face. Calum looks a little worried, embarrassed even, and honestly how can this kid even be  _ real _ ? Where in the hell did Calum learn how to  _ flirt _ ? Michael almost  _ hopes  _ Calum never sees how fucking beautiful he is, because if he did then he’d be unstoppable. 

“I mean,” Michael clears his throat. It’s too early to deal with this. “I didn’t  _ not  _ want to.” 

Calum narrows his eyes at Michael, and the older boy kind of wants to face palm because  _ what the fuck kind of answer was that _ ? He clears his throat again, and opens his mouth to talk. 

“That came out wrong.” 

“Yes it did.” Calum says with a soft smile. Michael kind of wants to smack him, but he also kind of wants to touch his thighs, and he can’t really do both, so. 

“What I  _ meant  _ was that I’m not... _ against  _ watching you, I guess, although not like all the time. Like, I don’t just stare at you all day, because that’d be weird, and I don’t know how that would be a good thing-”

Calum starts laughing before Michael can continue digging his own grave. He stops talking with red cheeks, and has the strength to glare at Calum a little. 

“What?” He asks, sounding like a small child as he glares at Calum. Calum just smiles at him. 

“Nothing, you’re just all…” Calum smirks. “Flustered.” 

Michael stares deadpan at Calum, feeling a little stupid. 

“You.” He decides. “Are a complete asshole.” 

Calum retains the smile on his face. 

“I know.” He says quietly. “But you like it.” 

Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Stop.” He says. Calum smirks, and scoots closer to Michael, so their hips are touching. 

“Why?” He asks. He sits up on his knees, and studies Michael. “Does it bother you?” 

Michael looks back at Calum, and searches his features. What is up with him? 

“Did you just wake up today, and decide that you were going to torture me? Is that what happened?” He asks. Calum smiles again, and leans his head on Michael’s shoulder sweetly. Michael sighs, and puts his arm around the smaller boy. He turns his head to the side, and presses a kiss to his temple. 

“Was that what you consider torture?” Calum whispers. Michael chuckles. 

“Why don’t you ask the ask the boner in my boxers?” He teases. It’s Calum’s turn to blush. He hides his face in Michael’s neck, and yeah, Michael is  _ quite  _ practiced in the art of flirting, so Calum doesn’t really know what’s coming for him. 

“I’d rather not.” Calum says quietly. Michael laughs softly, and rubs Calum’s arm with his finger tips. Calum lets out a content sigh, and kisses the side of Michael’s neck mindlessly. Michael would definitely classify this as A Moment, and he’s feeling some type of way in his chest. He sits up a little, and thinks that he’s about to be brave, and make this A Very Big Moment when  Ashton, in all his morning glory, ruins his plans by shuffling into the room in his boxers. 

“Wow.” He says in a gravelly voice, squinting at the two boys. “You guys are gross.” 

Calum takes his face away from his safe haven in Michael’s neck, and smirks at the oldest boy, who is scratching at his messy curls. There’s a bruise on the side of his neck. Michael kind of wonders if Luke is in Ashton’s room. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“You jealous, Irwin?” Michael asks, fighting the blush on his face. Ashton rolls his eyes, and walks by them, flicking Michael in the forehead. 

“Not one bit.” He mutters. He goes into the kitchen, and Michael and Calum hear him take a box of cereal down from the shelf. “You two need to just date already,” He says when he comes back through the living room, a box of Lucky Charms in his hands, one hand shoved inside the box haphazardly. “Honestly,  it’s sickening, you’re obviously in love. Get your shit together.” 

And that’s all, folks. That’s probably all they’ll see of Ashton for the next few days, as the boy has turned into some type of hermit that never leaves his room for anything except maybe a new box of cereal. Michael doesn’t really understand it. Probably an existential crisis. 

Luke needs to suck his dick or something. 

“Well.” Calum says. Michael looks at him. He’s so fucking pretty, with his dark complexion and pretty curls. Michael wants to return to that Very Big Moment really badly. “That was charming.” 

“You’re charming.” Michael says softly. Calum lifts an eyebrow when he looks at him. 

“Excuse me?” He asks. “If this is your retaliation, for our little flirting game we have going on, then I have to say, your new method, complimenting me or whatever, it’s not going to work, because personally, I think-”

Michael cuts Calum off by taking his face into his hands smoothly, his thumb just brushing the infamous scar on Calum’s cheek bone, placed there when his mother’s ring cut into his skin when she slapped him one day. Calum told Michael the story a long time ago. 

Calum feels like all the oxygen has been stolen from his body, and his blood has changed to molasses with Michael touching him like this. Calum spends a lot of time studying the intricate patterns of Michael’s eyes, but this pattern is new, and he’s never seen it before. Michael looks...all sorts of things. Scared, honest, brave. 

_ Determined _ . 

“Mikey?” Calum asks softly. Michael shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to play games anymore, Calum.” Michael whispers. Calum lifts his eyebrows, and Michael strokes the white skin of the scar. “You’ve won.” He whispers. “You’ve won it all, alright, you can have your prize now.” 

Calum’s mouth drops open slightly, and he has no way to respond, so Michael does it for him. Slow enough to let Calum back away, but fast enough that he can’t overthink it, Michael leans in, and kisses Calum as gently as he can. So gently in fact, that he’s not sure he actually did it until he could physically  _ feel  _ the blush rising on Calum’s cheeks under his hands. 

He holds them together for a moment, waiting for Calum’s tenseness to melt away until the younger boy is so relaxed that his hands find Michael’s bare chest, and he lets out a tiny sound that almost slips by unnoticed. When Michael thinks he’s made his point, and Calum is properly  _ breathless _ , the older boy pulls away slowly. 

Biting the flesh of his bottom lip, Michael tilts their foreheads together, letting his hands rest one on Calum’s cheek, and the other on his neck. 

“Your heart’s beating so fast.” Calum whispers, his fingers flexing over the skin where Michael’s heart is. Michael kind of likes the way he said that, so he lets out a breathless laugh. 

“That’s because you make me nervous.” He whispers, only half-teasing. Calum’s eyes light up, though, so Michael knows that was the right thing to say. 

“I make  _ you  _ nervous?” He whispers. Michael studies his face curiously. Calum has been nothing but frightened his whole life, a nervous, anxious, afraid mess that had nothing and no one. Calum’s about as intimidating as a bunny rabbit, but Michael is  _ always  _ nervous around him. For several reasons. 

“Yes.” Michael whispers. He stokes the skin of Calum’s neck. “You’re so pretty, it’s hard not to be nervous.” 

Calum blushes again, and drops his gaze away from Michael, bashful and relatively innocent. Michael laughs softly, and kisses Calum again softly, thinking that he’s been waiting  _ so long  _ to kiss this boy, and every single second of waiting was worth it. 

Calum lets out a shaky little breath when Michael pulls away, his eyes still half-closed, like he melted into the kiss. 

“So.” He says after a moment. He opens his eyes, and stares directly into Michael’s. “What’s my  _ real  _ prize?” 

Michael laughs loudly, because he  _ did not  _ expect that, and Calum just keeps him on his toes, and this boy is so damn cool, Michael is so fucking lucky to even know him. 

“Okay, jerkface.” Michael says, like the mature twenty four year old he is. “How about I treat your ass to dinner this evening?” 

While Calum pretends to ponder over the offer, he takes Michael’s hand, and laces their fingers together, resting them on his bare thigh. 

“Deal.”

Michael smiles. 

 

-

 

Calum and Michael had been  _ officially  _ together for close to two months. 

Calum liked everything about Michael, liked everything about their new relationship. He liked that Michael held him tighter when they slept than he ever had before. He liked that Michael made him breakfast on the mornings when he didn’t have to work, and could sleep in as long as he wanted. He liked that Michael groaned when he woke up, and he liked that he forced Calum to watch crappy movies when it rained, and he liked that the boy had an obsession with throat kisses. 

Like, an unhealthy obsession. 

Every part of the fucking day that Michael could get his hands on Calum, he was suddenly trapped against the closest surface, with Michael’s lips stuck to his throat. It was honestly kind of annoying, but mostly endearing, and all he did was roll his eyes when Michael would rampage his throat with his mouth. 

“Michael Clifford.” He muttered. “I have to go to work, darling.” 

“Mhm.” Michael responded against the column of his throat. “But I don’t want you to go.” 

Calum let out a small chuckle, and stroked Michael’s hair. 

“I have to.” He said. “If we ever want to get out of here, I’m gonna have to go to work.” 

Michael laughs louder, and places a wet kiss to the side of Calum’s neck. 

“We can take our time, I think.” He says, wrapping his arms around Calum’s waist. “There’s no rush.” 

Calum turns his face to the side, and kisses Michael’s cheek, returning Michael’s hug. 

“I know.” He says. “But I  _ really  _ want a puppy.” 

“What, Jalex isn’t good enough for you?” Michael asks, referring to the goldfish Michael bought for him six months ago. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“For the last time, his name is Jasper, Michael.” He says with a chuckle. Michael pouts. 

“I like Jalex better, though.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fish, and you can name it Jalex.” Calum settles. “But we’re getting a dog first.” 

Michael hums, and finally lets Calum go. Calum straightens out his work shirt, and ruffles Michael’s hair. 

“Why are you so against the apartment?” Michael asks, sitting down at the dinner table while Calum takes the milk out of the fridge. “After all, it is where we met for the first time.” 

“I was sobbing.” Calum points out blankly. 

“And it’s where we first slept in the same bed.” 

“I was  _ also  _ sobbing.” Calum says again, pouring his daily cup of coffee. 

“And it’s where I first made you dinner.” 

“It was burnt.” Calum smiles, sitting down at the table, sliding a bowl of Frosted Flakes to Michael. 

“Our first kiss was on that couch.”

“You were being a total asshole.” He laughs. Michael smiles too, but it fades after a second, and a slight blush rises to his cheeks. 

“And that bed in there,” Michael says, gesturing to the room down the hall. “That was the first time we-”

“ _ Michael. _ ” Calum says, his cheeks  _ flaming _ with embarrassment. Michael smirks, and shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. 

“Sorry, baby.” He says. “Just thought that was a pretty big day.” 

Calum raises an eyebrow. 

“ _ Very  _ big.” He says with a suppressed smile. Michael raises both eyebrows. 

“Calum Hood!” He says with a wicked grin. “Did you just make a fucking innuendo at me?” 

Calum blushes, and sips from his drink again. 

“Maybe.” He mutters. Michael tips his head back, and laughs. 

“Well,” He says, standing up from the table. He walks past Calum, places his bowl in the sink, and comes back, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Thanks for making me feel good about myself, sweetheart.” 

Calum chuckles, and Michael kisses his forehead before sauntering out of the kitchen. 

“It’s the truth!” Calum calls, and Michael laughs as he walks back into their room. Calum knows Michael is probably going to sleep until he has to leave for work in a few hours. Calum doesn’t mind, Michael can be a complete bitch when he doesn’t get enough sleep. 

His and Michael’s relationship was probably the best thing that Calum could have after everything he went through. Being abused didn’t mean his life was over, but for a while there, sitting alone in the apartment, waiting terrified for Luke to come home, Calum thought there would never be a way out. He never thought that he’d be without bruises, never thought that he’d talk to people again, never thought he’d be happy again. 

But Michael changed that.  

Calum was never afraid that Michael would come home drunk, and beat him for no reason. He was never afraid that if he burned dinner, he’d be forced to sleep on the couch instead of in the bed. He was never afraid that Michael would stop loving him because he didn’t want to have sex. 

Michael gave him hope, gave him the confidence he needed to grow into himself. 

So, Calum laughed, and Calum smiled, and he kissed, and he talked to new people at work. Everytime he refrained from flinching at loud noises or yelling, Michael would squeeze his hand, and kiss his neck. Everytime he had the courage to talk to someone new, Michael was there, helping him to make conversation with whoever it was. 

And when Calum got the words he’d repeated to himself when he was alone and in the dark inked into his skin, Michael let him lay down, and he stroked the letters softly. 

_ The sun will rise, and we will try again _ were now permanently written on his back, across the angle of his shoulder blades like wings. At night time, when he lay on his stomach, and dreamed of anything and everything, Michael would drag his fingers over the phrase, and kiss the period at the end to comfort himself. 

It was just so infinitely  _ Calum  _ that Michael couldn’t picture anything else ever printed on his boy’s skin. 

And on nights when they decided kisses and hugs were too little a gesture to properly express their love, Michael would lay Calum down on the bed they’d shared for close to a year, and strip him of his clothes smoothly while Calum squirmed and whined. He took his time, spreading Calum’s pretty thighs, and kissing every inch of skin he could get his hands on. 

When Calum curled in on himself, embarrassed of his body, Michael would lick over every damn scar stained on his pretty skin, and when the moment came, make Calum stare in the mirror while Michael ruined him slowly and thoroughly. Calum almost always cried during those moments, and Michael at first was worried, but soon he realized that that was how Calum expressed how fucking  _ good  _ it felt to be loved in a physical way by the boy of his dreams. 

Calum also seemed to have a  _ very  _ prominent daddy kink that he was a little ashamed of. 

Honestly, Michael wasn’t that surprised when he was fingering his boyfriend, and that five-letter word slipped from his mouth. Calum’s dad had never been around for him when he needed, and he seemed to be the root of a lot of Calum’s problems. He was the reason Calum was so gentle and quiet, the reason for Calum’s cracked heart that Michael worked day and night to keep from breaking. 

So, Michael didn’t really mind when Calum called him daddy, because he understood. 

And because it happened to be  _ hot as fuck _ . Michael may or may not have a control kink, and that tied in perfectly, because Calum relied so heavily on him for a lot of things. Calum seemed embarrassed by it though, and he cried when it first happened, and  _ begged  _ Michael not to be angry. 

Michael found out afterwards that Calum had accidentally called Luke daddy once, and Luke had beat him so hard, Calum physically couldn’t peel himself off the floor when it was over.  

Michael had just hushed Calum with a soft, ‘daddy’s got you, sweetheart,’ and then proceeded to give him the orgasm of his  _ life.  _ Calum just added it to his list of reasons to be in love with Michael. 

Their life was easy, working most of the day so they could move out of the apartment, and hopefully get the puppy Calum had wanted since he was a little boy. At night, they sat on the couch, legs tangled together, and watched old movies, bowls of cereal in laps as makeshift dinner. They played board games by themselves, and made fun of Ashton when he came home from work, exhausted and cranky. Then they forced Ashton to play games with them, or onto the couch so they could watch tv as a family. 

And when Luke was added to the mix, the tension actually wasn’t as bad as everyone imagined. It was fucked up, on all sorts of levels, but Luke seemed to be better than he had been. Ashton, in all his sassy glory, had convinced Luke to see someone about his problems, and was doing much better controlling his anger, and seeing the affect he had on others. He was gentle with Ashton, staring at him like some sort of sun god that shouldn’t be human. 

Calum kept Michael between him and Luke most of the time, even though Luke had pulled Calum to the side, and formally apologized for everything he’d done. No apology could quite cover exactly when Luke had done to Calum, how much he’d  _ destroyed  _ him, but Calum figured it was better than nothing. 

So, he embraced the tiny family he’d scored for himself, and relaxed in Michael’s arms. He liked to sit on the bathroom counter when Michael dyed his hair, and sometimes he brought Michael lunch in his work uniform, which Michael had claimed made his ass look  _ great _ . Calum thought he was full of it, and always gave Michael a kiss with a teasing amount of tongue when he left. 

Calum believed he was in love. Michael did too. Michael didn’t know what he did to score someone like Calum. Didn’t know that it was possible for someone like Calum to bounce back after everything he’d been through. He was just glad he did. 

“I’m leaving, Mikey.” Calum called as he grabbed his bag from the hook by the door, kicking Michael’s muddy Converse out of the way. 

A suspicious groan made its way down the hall, and Calum smiled to himself. 

“Bye!” Michael yelled out, his voice muffled, like he was face down in the sheets. 

“Goodbye, Michael.” Calum called, throwing his strap over his shoulder. “Be good!” 

Michael laughed. 

“You know me, Cally, no promises!” He yelled back. Calum rolled his eyes, and opened the door. 

“I love you, Calum Hood!” Michael yelled. Calum blushed a bit. 

“I love you too.” He yelled back, then shut the door carefully, and set about to his day. 

 

-

 

Calum yawned lazily as he walked into his kitchen, cup of coffee in his hand, hair sticking up in random angles. In his free hand was the daily mail, random bills and such that he’ll probably have to take care of because Michael is too lazy to. 

Calum leaned his hip against the counter, and began to thumb through the pieces of paper. A thicker piece at the bottom caught his attention, a postcard from Florida of all places. Calum didn’t know anyone from Florida. With a lazy sigh, Calum flipped the card over, and when he read the name, dropped his coffee in shock. The mug shattered on the floor, and the hot liquid ran over the tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Calum?” 

Calum was too focused on the card to pay any attention to the voice asking for him. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” 

Calum looked up with a shocked expression at Michael, who was wearing black sweats and a ripped white shirt, his hair equally messy, and his eyes laced with concern. 

“Um.” Calum said, his voice sounding dry and breathless. Michael came closer, eyeing the shattered porcelain on the floor. 

“Calum come here, darling, you’ll cut yourself on the shards.” 

Calum swallowed uncomfortably, and took Michael’s hand, stepping over the mess on the kitchen floor. Michael pulled him to his chest, and looked at what Calum was holding. 

“What’s this?” He asked, taking the card in his hands, flipping it over. “A card?” 

Calum nods, and fists his hands in Michael’s shirt, laying his head against his chest. 

“It’s from my dad.” He whispered, breathless. Michael scowls, and turns the card over, his eyes skimming over the message. His grip on Calum tightens as his husband begins to shake. 

“Jesus Christ.” Michael whispers out. Calum is still in shock, gripping Michael tightly. Michael continues to look over the card, feeling extremely angry and extremely hopeless. 

“Calum, sweetheart-” 

“Daddy?” 

Both men in the kitchen turn around to see their little boy standing at the doorway of the kitchen, his blankie clutched in his hand, one chubby fist rubbing at his eye tiredly. Michael smiled at him. 

“Hey baby, it’s alright, you can come in, just be careful, there’s glass.” He said, and although the little boy looked hesitant, he did what his daddy said, walking into the kitchen, and hugging Michael’s leg. 

Michael gently manhandled Calum until the smaller man was sitting down in his chair, a confused expression stuck on his face. Michael knelt down in front of him, setting the card on the table, and cupped Calum’s face in his hands. 

“Calum, it’s alright, he doesn’t matter, don’t let it get to you, okay?” He said softly, and Calum bit his lip, trying to stop the tears from falling, but it was inevitable as fat, clear drops rolled down his face. 

“It’s been twenty years, Mikey.” He whispered, and Michael’s heart broke with that, and he wasn’t really sure what to do. He felt a slight tug to his shirt, and he looked over at their little boy, who looked worried. 

“What’s wrong with daddy?” He whispered, and Michael smiled. He leaned down, and picked their little boy up, setting him on Calum’s lap. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself, munchkin.” He said, booping his son’s rounded nose.

Their little boy, Charlie, wrapped his short arms around Calum’s neck, and looked up at him. 

“Was’ the matter, daddy?” He asked in that gentle innocent voice of his. Calum let out a wet chuckle as he sniffled, and wrapped his arms around his son to keep him safe in his lap. 

“Nothing, sweet boy, I don’t want you to worry about me, okay, darling?” He said gently. 

“But you’re crying, and papa says that that’s what people do when they’re sad.” Charlie says, his green eyes wide. “Why’re you sad, daddy?” 

Calum smiles, and Michael stands up to start making breakfast, leaving Calum and his son together. 

“You remember Grandpa Clifford? How he’s papa’s daddy?” Calum whispers to Charlie. Charlie smiles, and nods excitedly. “Well I have one too, just like him, but I haven’t talked to him in a very, very long time.” 

“How long?” Charlie asks, his little hands tugging on Calum’s worn band shirt. 

“Almost twenty years, baby.” Calum says, tucking his chin on top of Charlie’s head. “And I got this card today from him, saying that he misses me and loves me.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, daddy?” Charlie asks. Michael laughs a little from the counter because the complexity of the situation is unexplainable to a child that young. Unexplainable for someone that innocent. 

“Yeah.” Calum says, stroking Charlie’s brown hair softly. “It is, baby, I’m crying because I’m happy.” 

Michael admires his husband’s lie because Charlie worries so much about his daddy, and this is the last thing they need. Calum will have to tell Charlie about everything one day, but today isn’t that day. 

“Happy?” Charlie asks in his five-year-old confusion. “But papa said-” 

“I know what papa said, sweet boy, but you can also cry because you’re happy.” Calum says gently. “Isn’t that right, papa?” 

Michael smiled from where he was sweeping up Calum’s broken mug. 

“That’s right, daddy.” Michael said, standing up, and walking to the two boys at the table, kissing both of them on the forehead. “I cried when you came to us.” 

Charlie’s eyes light up. 

“Really, papa?” He asks, then he stops to think for a minute. “Were you happy or sad?” 

Michael tips his head back, and laughs because that type of innocent confusion was gracing his husband’s features not too long ago. 

“I was very,  _ very  _ happy, bean.” He says, kissing Charlie’s head again. Charlie smiles, and Calum kisses his cheek. 

“Just like I was.” Calum whispers. “Why don’t you go make your bed, and play with your Legos while papa makes breakfast, yeah?” 

“Will you build a tower with me?” Charlie asks, looking up at his daddy. Calum laughs, and nods. 

“After breakfast, I’ll build towers with you until lunchtime, as long as you get that bed made, okay?” Calum says. Charlie smiles, and darts off Calum’s lap, starting to run back through the hall. 

“Don’t run, Charles!” Michael calls, and then both men giggle as the little footsteps come to an abrupt halt, and then slowly continue. 

“He’s so your son.” Michael says. And Calum smiles, but it fades after a second, looking at the postcard on the table. Michael catches his look, and strokes the side of his neck. 

Then, he takes his son’s place on Calum’s lap, resting his head on top of Calum’s, looking at the card with him. 

“How am I supposed to respond to this, Mikey?” Calum whispers, wrapping his arms around his husband of four years. Michael hums, and trails his fingers down the back of Calum’s neck. 

“Maybe you don’t.” He says. Calum furrows his eyebrows. 

“He’s my dad, Mike.” 

“I know, baby.” Michael whispers against his hair. “But maybe this is how things are supposed to be.” 

Calum turns his face into Michael’s chest. 

“Even though he left, he...he never did anything to  _ hurt  _ me.” Calum says. “Maybe-”

“Calum, no.” Michael says. “No, sweetie, don’t do this to yourself. He  _ abandoned  _ you. He hurt you more than your mum and Luke combined, alright. Don’t let this half-assed apology seep into you yet, alright? You have  _ every  _ right to not respond.” 

Calum let out a shuddery breath. 

“I can’t hold grudges forever.” He whispers. 

“I know.” Michael whispers. “But I don’t want to see you hurt again.” 

Calum lets out a dry sob, and grips Michael tighter. Michael strokes his hair softly. 

“No, darling.” He whispers. “I’m here, and your son is down the hallway making his bed. Okay?  _ Your  _ son, Calum.” 

“He’s yours too.” Calum lets out weakly. 

“I’m half the father you are, Calum.” Michael whispers. “Listen to me, Calum. You are that little boy’s  _ world  _ right now, do you understand me? And maybe raising him the way your father never raised you is the way you answer this card, okay? One day, he’s going to grow up, and make his own decisions, and maybe one day he’ll be the one to fix a broken heart. But for now, he is  _ yours,  _ and the only thing you are responsible for is  _ him _ .” 

Calum cries again, pushing his face further into Michael’s chest. 

“I want to be a good dad so bad, Mikey.” He mumbles. Michael laughs a little, because they’d had this talk  _ so  _ many times before Charlie came to him. Calum had been worried  _ sick  _ that he’d make the same mistakes  _ his  _ parents did with their little boy, but Michael had  _ always  _ known Calum was  _ born  _ to be a father. 

“You are, sweetie.” Michael whispers. “You’re the best thing Charlie has right now.” 

Calum sobs again, but there’s a laugh mixed in with it, so Michael knows his husband is alright, even as he grips Michael’s shirt tightly, and cries into him loudly. 

“And you know what?” Michael whispers in Calum’s fluffy morning hair. “You’re the best thing  _ I  _ have, too. Best thing i’ve ever had, best thing I ever  _ will  _ have, so please baby, please don’t cry.” 

Calum hiccups, and like it always has, it takes him a bit to calm down, but when he finally does, he rests his head idly against Michael, and twists the gold ring on his finger. Calum had a lot of quirks, but this was one of his favorites. He liked when Calum would touch and stroke the ring on his finger, because he had one on his own finger, but he liked to know Michael’s was there. It calmed him down. 

“I love you, Michael.” He whispered, still twisting the ring around. “I love you with everything I have.” 

“I know, love.” Michael said. “Feeling is mutual.” 

Then, with a kiss to Calum’s forehead, Michael got up, and returned to the breakfast, which was indeed, burning. 

“Damn it, Calum, your nervous breakdown made me burn breakfast.” He said in a teasing tone. Calum let out a huff of laughter, apparently pleased with Michael’s joke. Michael smiled to himself because Calum had been beaten and battered physically and mentally his entire life, and he was a type of strong that normal people just  _ couldn’t  _ comprehend, and Michael considers it a  _ privilege  _ to be married to him.  __

“I’m sorry.” He said softly in that velvet way of his that made Michael want to throw himself off a cliff. 

Michael plated up breakfast for his pretty husband, and made a plate for Charlie as well. Seeing as it was Saturday, they could afford to let Charlie play in his room for a little while longer before they made him sit down, and properly enjoy breakfast. Michael sat across from Calum, and as they ate Michael’s concoction of charred pancakes and bacon strips, they held hands over the surface of the table of their little house.  

They hear a crash from the room down the hall, and within seconds, there’s a loud shout, and scuffled footsteps on the tile. 

“Oh lord.” Calum mutters. 

Pax, their Dachshund puppy, comes running into the kitchen, and immediately hides behind Michael’s chair, nudging the man with his nose. Michael chuckles, and strokes his head. 

“1...2...3…”

“Daddy!” 

Michael laughs, and Calum rolls his eyes because his husband is such a  _ child,  _ and why did they even get married? 

“What’s wrong, Charles?” Calum calls back, leaning against the wall. 

“Paxi knocked down my tower.” 

Calum sends a glare to the dog currently licking off Michael’s fingers, which probably taste a lot like bacon. He walks by the two, flicking Michael in the neck. 

“Y’know, when we got a dog, I figured he would like  _ me  _ more than you.” He says. Michael laughs. 

“I thought the same thing about the kid.” He laughs. Calum rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and walks down the hall to his son’s room. 

“C’mon, baby, let’s build you a tower.” Calum says, walking into his son’s clean bedroom, eyeing the mess of multi-colored Legos, being careful of where he steps. 

He sits down on the floor with Charlie, and starts collecting the fallen mess, handing Charlie pieces. Charlie sorts them out by size, and starts to build the base of his tower. 

“Building towers” with Charlie is usually Calum sitting by the side, and handing his son random blocks, and helping him when the tower gets too tall. 

Charlie came to Calum as a three-year-old boy. He came to Michael too, but everyone who's ever met the three-male family would know that Charlie is Calum’s pride and joy, and vice versa. Charlie has brown shaggy hair and green eyes that look a lot like Michael’s in shade, but not shape. He likes Legos and Spongebob, and has been diagnosed with OCD since the day he turned three. 

It’s hard to see diseases like OCD in small children, but Calum sees it in his son everyday when he plays with Legos, sorting each one by size and color. It just makes Charlie even more special to Calum. 

Sitting on the blue rug of his son’s bedroom, helping him build a tower by color while his husband feeds their puppy in the other room, Calum tips his head back, and closes his eyes. He’s a peace here. Things are better than he ever imagined they could be. 

Later that night, when Charlie is content on the couch watching Jurassic Park with Pax in his lap, happily reunited, Calum slips into his bedroom, where Michael is lounging on their bed. 

“How’s he doing?” Michael asks when Calum comes into the room. Calum looks at his husband for a moment before unbuckling his belt, and slipping it from the loops in his jeans. 

“He’s okay.” He says back. “He didn’t sort his dinner by color, so I think he’s alright for today.” 

Michael smiles lazily, and stretches out on the bed, reaching a hand out to settle on Calum’s hip. Calum turns to him expectantly, his hands resting weakly on his shirt, about to take it off. 

“How’re you doing, my love?” Michael asks softly, and Calum looks over him, in his sweat pants, in his faded hair and soft green eyes, and thinks that this is absolute bliss. Michael only calls him ‘my love’ when he’s feeling particularly fond, and Calum wants to kiss every inch of his body until he’s high off the taste of love from his husband. 

“I’m doing just fine.” He says smoothly, taking Michael’s hand, and kissing his fingertips gently. 

“Is that the truth?” Michael asks, wrapping his fingers around Calum’s. Calum smiles gently, and sits down on the bed beside Michael. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Because you hide things from me.” Michael says softly. “Even when you think I don’t notice, I do.” 

Calum frowns, and lays down, molding his body to Michael’s, because they fit together so easily now. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. Michael lets out a soft sound, and nuzzles his nose in Calum’s neck. 

“It’s alright, I understand why you do it.” He says. He drops one of his hands so he’s stroking Calum’s tummy. “But you know, with Charlie, the doctors told us it’s only going to get worse.” 

Calum nodded, and laced his fingers with Michael’s on his stomach. 

“I know.” He says. “He’ll be okay, though, I know it.” 

“School starts in a few weeks for him.” 

“I know.” Calum says. Thinking about Charlie going to school, even if it’s just half a day, makes his stomach tighten up in knots, and Calum doesn’t like to think about it. He’s heard stories of how kids like him are treated, and after his experience in school, alone and invisible, Calum is reluctant to let go. 

But he has to eventually. 

“Are you worried?” Michael asked. 

“Yes.” Calum says softly. “Aren’t you?” 

“Terrified.” Michael confirms, kissing Calum’s neck. “But if he’s anything like the boy we raised him to be, he’ll have no trouble at all.” 

Calum smiles at that because Michael has so much blind faith, Calum will never understand. Michael could fiddle his way through the forest in the dark with nothing but faith in something Calum doesn’t recognize. 

Calum’s seen the cross Michael hides in his mess of bracelets. He knows Michael’s heart. 

Mostly because it belongs to him. 

“I wish I could think like you do.” Calum whispers into the dark. “It haunts my dreams, him going to school and being picked on or not making friends, or…”

Michael hushes Calum because he knows what Calum’s fear is. 

“Charlie is a good boy, Cal. He’s got your heart, and my charm, how could anybody dislike him?” 

_ Maybe because he organizes everything he owns by size _ . 

Calum shrugs. 

“I just worry, Mikey.” He says. Michael strokes his tummy again in an effort to calm him. 

“Don’t.” Michael whispers. “I hate when you worry.” 

Calum smiles. Michael is so good to him, a part of him that can never be taken away. 

“Daddy, the movie is over.” Charlie whispers from outside the door. Charlie has learned to never go barging into his daddies’ door, and Calum has to smile at his son’s patient voice from the other side. “Can Paxi and I come in?” 

Michael huffs a little, and mutters. 

“Kinda wanted to have sex.” He whispers. “Damn kid.” 

Calum slaps at Michael’s arm, and breaks away from him with a smile. 

“Come on in, Charlie.” He says, sitting up in the blanket.

Charlie comes trudging into the room, his yellow blankie dragging on the ground behind him and the dog chasing the end of the blanket. The little boy is obviously tired, wiped out from his day helping his papa in the backyard after towers. He and Pax had run around the fenced-in area while Michael trimmed weeds, and Calum worked on lesson plans inside. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight, papa?” Charlie asks, crawling on the bed, making Pax whine because he wasn’t allowed up. 

Michael smiles, and ruffles Charlie’s hair. 

“Did the dinosaurs scare you?” 

Charlie pouts. 

“No.” He protests, his chubby little cheeks filling with blood. Calum smiles to himself. 

“You can sleep here, Charlie, just make sure your puppy stays on the floor.” Calum says gently. Charlie gives him a bright, young smile. Calum is charmed by his five-year-old son. 

Why is he so worried about him? Everything will be fine. 

The three boys settle down in the covers, Charlie between Michael and Calum. When Charlie is well asleep, and Pax is snoring at the foot of their bed, Calum leans over their son, and kisses Michael’s sleepy lips sweetly. 

“Goodnight, Mikey.” He whispers. Michael smiles his drowsy smile, blinking at Calum with lazy green eyes. 

“You want to know something, Calum?” Michael whispers in the cool air between them. Calum looks at him with a quirked eyebrow, his attention caught. “I never imagined this would happen.” 

Calum laughs, and opens his mouth to explain that he  _ certainly  _ never expected it, either. Michael continues, though. 

“I want you to understand. Growing up, the very thought of committing to anyone for more than a few months was borderline sickening. I was so afraid...afraid of screwing it up, afraid of cheating or hurting someone so bad they wouldn’t ever look at me the same.” Michael whispers, and Calum’s heart tugs at the word ‘cheating,’ because he’s felt it once, and he wasn’t even in love that time. Calum wouldn’t be able to bear it if Michael cheated on him. “But then you came, with your broken heart and broken past, and I have never...I have never wanted to  _ commit  _ to anything so  _ badly  _ in my whole life.” 

Calum looks at Michael with a face frozen in surprise. 

“I never imagined I would love anyone the way I love you. I never imagined that I would find someone who became a  _ part  _ of me, someone that I live and breathe for. I never, ever imagined that it would hurt to be away from someone when they were gone, or that  _ everything  _ they do would bring me to my knees in fondness.” Michael whispers. He isn’t crying, but Calum is, because he’s never seen this before, not even when Michael proposed to him all those years ago. This is new, something Michael’s been keeping hidden in the corners of his heart for a long,  _ long  _ time. “I never expected to get a grown up job so I could buy a house, never imagined i’d have to pay  _ bills  _ with the marital stamp on them. Never imagined having a wedding album on my coffee table that holds vanilla candles for when we entertain. Never imagined waking up every day to your beautiful face, and feeling relieved because all my nightmares now are about you, about having you torn from me. I’ve never imagined i’d be so fucking  _ lucky  _ to have you as a husband, and Charlie as my son. I never imagined I was worth so much to  _ anyone _ .” 

Calum sobs a little, and his tears are trickling down his face, and into his son’s hair, and so  _ much  _ is happening. 

“And I just want you to know that I hold you above  _ all  _ things.” He says seriously, a type of seriousness that Calum hasn’t even  _ seen  _ before. “You and Charlie, you are the number one priority above everything else. And I love you, Calum. When I was young, I didn’t even know what love meant. I thought I did, thought I was ready for it, but this feeling I get when I think about you, it’s...it’s  _ maddening _ , and I just can’t get you out of my head. I  _ never  _ anticipated caring about someone being so powerful.” 

“Mikey.” Calum whispers, one tan hand coming to rest on his lover’s cheek, stroking the skin there gently. 

Calum doesn’t say anything to try to compete with that, and he feels a little guilty, but Michael understands. He understands that Calum was silent most of his life, and words are  _ hard  _ for him when his whole life he was robbed of them. So he presses a kiss to his husband’s fingers, and looks at him so  _ intensely  _ that Calum knows Michael understands. 

He’s so lucky. 

“I love you, too.” He says eventually. Michael nods, and leans over to kiss Calum on the mouth softly, ignoring the tear-wet cheeks. Charlie mutters something in his sleep between them, and both men laugh. Calum strokes his son’s hair in a manner so loving, Michael can hardly breathe.

“Go to sleep, darling.” Michael whispers, stroking Calum’s hair as the younger man did his son. “We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Calum smiles at Michael, and slowly closes his eyes. 

That promise sounds good to him. 


End file.
